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(WIT.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRAS* ,  LOS  AHGIU58 


'C.OOD-BY,      LITTLE      GIRL,"       HE      SAID. 

"GOOD-BY,"  i  WHISPERED. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW 
WIFE 


BY 

MARGARET  BELLE  HOUSTON 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
F.  GRAHAM  COOTES 


New  York 
THE  H.  K.  FLY  COMPANY 

Publishers 


Copyright.  19U,  by 
THE  H.  K.  FLY  COMPANY 

Copyright.  19U,  by 
THE  McCLURE  PUBLICATIONS,  IK. 


TO 

ALL  WHO  SEEK 
THE  GOLDEN  KEY 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Good-by,    little    girl,"    he    said.     "  Good-by,"    I 

whispered,. Frontispiece 

"  I   don't  hate  you  at   all " *° 

With  a  swift  movement  of  the  arm  he  thrust  my 


pursuer    from   me 


68 


From  the  conservatory  floated  the  Mexican  waltz, 

dreamy,   tender   and   soft     .     ......    133 


The  Little  Straw  Wife 


TTT  was  just  last  night! 

J_       I  laid  my  bridal  bouquet  on  the  chair  and  sat 
down  on  it.     Then  I  kicked  my  wedding  slippers  off. 

They  landed  under  the  dressing  table,  huddled 
sideways,  as  if  afraid  of  what  I  meant  to  do  next. 
I  didn't  know,  myself.  I  knew,  only,  what  I  wasn't 
going  to  do,  and  that  was  —  leave  home  with  that 
man. 

We  were  married.  There  wasn't  any  doubt  of 
that. 

We  had  been  married  an  hour,  and  it  had  taken  a 
dean  and  a  bishop  to  put  the  nice  new  chain  around 
us  and  snap  the  padlock.  Aunt  Emmeline  had  given 
me  away  —  I  could  still  feel  her  push  of  relinquish- 
ment  —  and  we  had  ridden  home  together  and  stood 
under  an  arch  of  roses  and  smilax,  and  received  any 
amount  of  felicitations.  The  presents  were  ar- 
ranged in  the  library  —  such  a  glitter  of  silver  and 
glass  and  gold !  —  my  trunks  were  packed  and  wait- 


2  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

ing,  and  I  had  been  sent  upstairs  to  change  my  dress 
and  make  ready  for  the  steamer  which  should  carry 
me  away  to  Italy  for  three  months  with  Mr.  Holt. 
The  bride's  maids  were  standing  now  at  the  foot  of 
the  stair,  waiting  for  me  to  throw  down  my  bouquet 
that  the  destined  next-bride  might  catch  it. 

But  I  had  sat  on  it,  instead. 

Suddenly  I  rose  and,  stealing  across  the  floor  in 
my  stockinged  feet,  I  drew  the  bolt  of  the  door. 
Then  I  turned  to  the  mirror  and  began  to  loose  the 
veil  from  my  hair.  There  were  a  million  pins  in  it. 
Katy  had  fastened  it  to  my  head  as  securely  as  the 
bishop  had  fastened  me  to  Mr.  Holt.  But  it  was 
coming  off.  And  it  did.  I  dropped  it  in  a  heap  on 
top  of  the  pressed  bouquet,  and  began  to  tug  at  the 
gown.  There  was  a  faint  tap  at  the  door. 

"  It's  only  me,  Miss  Ballentyne,"  came  the  voice 
of  Katy.  "  Mrs.  Morse  says  I'm  to  unfasten  you." 

"  Thank  you !  "  I  called  back.  "  I  don't  need  any 
help."  And  I  didn't,  thanks  to  the  few  simple 
fastenings.  Then  I  put  on  a  quilted  pink  kimono  — 
everything  else  was  packed  —  and  let  down  my  hair. 

It  was  a  heavenly  relief,  and  I  didn't  feel  married 
at  all.  I  had  just  sunk  into  the  big  wing  chair  when 
there  came  a  dreadful  knock  at  the  door.  It  wasn't 
a  loud  knock  and  it  wasn't  long.  It  was  merely  em- 
phatic, and  suggested  sharp  firm  knuckles  —  Aunt 
Emmeline's  knuckles. 

"Well?"  I  gasped. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  3 

"  I  think,  Zoe,  that  you  have  taken  long  enough. 
Let  me  in,  please." 

"  I  can't  let  you  in,  Aunt  Emmeline,"  I  answered, 
sinking  as  far  into  the  chair  as  possible.  "  I'm  not 
dressed." 

The  door  knob  turned. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  why  you  have  this  door  locked?  " 
she  enquired. 

I  didn't  answer.     I  left  it  to  her  imagination. 

"  Open  it  at  once !  "  she  demanded.  "  Mr.  Holt  is 
waiting,  and  I  intend  to  see  that  you  get  dressed." 

Then  I  stood  up  very  straight.  It  was  the  cour- 
age of  desperation.  "  I  am  not  going  to  open  that 
door,"  I  said,  "  until  Mr.  Holt  is  out  of  this  house 
and  gone." 

I  heard  something  like  a  gasp.  Then  there  came 
two  or  three  unintelligible  remarks  from  mingled 
voices.  Evidently,  Aunt  Emmeline  was  not  alone. 

"  Zoe,"  she  began  sternly,  yet  the  least  bit  uncer- 
tainly, "  open  this  door,  or  I  shall  have  Max  come 
and  force  the  lock."  Max  was  the  chauffeur,  and 
he  was  a  very  forcible  looking  person. 

"  If  Max  intrudes  on  my  deshabille"  I  replied,  "  I 
shall  resent  it  in  the  proper  manner."  I  didn't  know 
what  that  was,  but  I  began  to  look  about  for  an  object 
redoubtable  enough  to  make  an  impression  on  an  im- 
pending chauffeur.  I  had  just  decided  on  the  tennis 
racquet  when  Aunt  Emmeline  gave  some  instruction 
in  a  low  voice  and  I  heard  the  sound  of  retreating 


4  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

footsteps.  Then  she  said  in  a  very  soft  and  earnest 
tone,  "  Let  me  in,  Zoe,  I  have  something  very  im- 
portant to  say  to  you." 

It  occurred  to  me  then  that  I  had  something  very 
important  to  say  to  Aunt  Emmeline.  So  I  pulled  on 
some  slippers  —  not  the  bridal  ones  —  and,  going  to 
the  door,  unlocked  and  opened  it. 

Aunt  Emmeline  came  in.  She  is  like  a  needle, 
Aunt  Emmeline,  trim  and  slim  and  sharp.  Her  black 
eyes  seemed  to  prick  me  for  an  instant,  then  darted 
about  the  room.  But  she  made  no  comment  on  the 
evidence  of  cataclysm  except  to  say,  "  I'll  keep  your 
wedding  gown  here  until  you  come  back.  You  won't 
need  it." 

"  No,  Aunt  Emmeline,"  I  said.  "  And,  wherever 
I  go,  it  will  not  be  with  Mr.  Holt." 

"  Have  you  lost  your  mind  ?  "  whispered  Aunt 
Emmeline. 

And  then,  as  I  made  no  answer,  she  came  very 
close  and,  with  something  almost  threatening,  yet 
frightened,  too,  in  her  eyes,  she  said,  "  What's  the 
matter  with  you,  Zoe?  " 

And  you  wouldn't  wonder  at  her  amazement  if  you 
knew  how  meek  I  had  always  been  with  Aunt  Emme- 
line, how  tractable  and  obedient,  as  everyone  else 
about  her  was.  Indeed,  if  they  weren't  they  went 
somewhere  else  very  speedily. 

"  What's  got  into  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Aunt    Emmeline,    answer    me    this ! "    I    cried. 


JHE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  5 

"  Why  couldn't  you  have  played  square?  Why, 
when  Mr.  Holt  started  coming  here  —  before  we  had 
even  been  together  alone,  before  he  had  really  shown 
any  interest  at  all  —  why  did  you  ask  him  his  inten- 
tions regarding  me  ?  " 

"  Who  says  I  did  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Emmeline. 

"  I  heard  two  women  discussing  it  just  now.  They 
were  directly  behind  me  as  I  stood  waiting  to  go  up- 
stairs. They  didn't  know  I  was  there.  And  that's 
not  the  worst.  You  told  him  he'd  compromised  me 
by  coming  so  often  —  that  he'd  kept  other  men  away 
—  and  he  hadn't.  He'd  hardly  been  here  at  all ! 
And  you  told  him  about  the  two  years  you'd  given 
me  to  marry  in  —  that  he  had  hung  on  until 
they  were  nearly  up,  and  that  at  the  end  of  them 
you  meant  to  wash  your  hands  of  me.  You  told 
him !  You  fairly  thrust  me  into  his  hands.  He  had 
to  marry  me  or  feel  he'd  played  the  cad.  How  could 
you?  " 

I  stopped  through  actual  lack  of  breath.  Aunt 
Emmeline  answered  with  dignity.  "  This  is  no  time 
to  discuss  that.  I  had  every  right  to  know  the 
man's  intentions.  I  wanted  no  more  of  your  toying 
with  your  opportunities  and  my  time.  I  asked  him 
frankly  and  he  proposed  for  your  hand.  If  these 
women  wish  to  criticise  —  Who  were  they  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  fibbed.  "  But  so  far  as  that 
goes,  they  fully  approved  of  your  methods.  They 
said  it  should  be  done  oftener  in  America.  But  — 


6  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

but —  Oh,  Aunt  Emmeline,  have  you  done  this 
with  all  —  with  all  the  men  who  have  asked  to  marry 
me?" 

"  I  have  not,"  said  Aunt  Emmeline.  "  If  you 
had  not  refused  all  the  decent  offers  I  had  contrived 
to  get  for  you,  I  should  not  have  been  driven  to  it  in 
this  instance." 

"  Then  you  have  contrived?  " 

"  Well  —  I  do  not  think  my  maneuvers  were  ever 
suspected  by  them.  It  was  your  own  dilatory  be- 
havior that  forced  me  into  so  blunt  a  measure.  I 
had  saved  him  until  the  last  —  there  were  others,  of 
course,  whom  I  preferred  to  Mr.  Holt  —  but  I  knew 
that  you  would  marry  him  if  he  ever  proposed. 
And,  so  far  — " 

"  You  knew?  "  I  whispered.     "  How?  " 

"  I  am  not  blind  as  yet." 

"Not  blind?  But  I  have  —  I  have  scarcely  seen 
him." 

"  You  looked  at  him,  however,  when  you  did  see 
him.  And,  as  I  say — " 

A  sudden  horrible  thought  seized  me.  "  Aunt 
Emmeline,"  I  said,  "did  you  tell  Mr.  Holt  I  — 
loved  him  ?  Did  you  use  that  — " 

"  Well,"  answered  Aunt  Emmeline,  looking  past 
me,  "  if  I  did  —  Anyhow,  you  are  married  to  him 
now.  What  difference — " 

"  All  the  difference  in  the  world !  "  I  cried,  charged 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  7 

suddenly  with  the  strength  of  ten.  "  I  shall  not  go 
one  step  further.  Not  one." 

Aunt  Emmeline  sat  down. 

"Not— *  Not —  But  you  must!  What  will 
you  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I  shall  decide." 

"  But  I  shall  be  disgraced  —  actually !  I  who 
have  held  my  head  up  always.  I  shall  be  made  a 
laughing  stock  —  and  by  you !  " 

"  I  am  sorry,"  I  said.  And  indeed  I  was,  for  after 
all  — 

"  But  think  what  you'd  throw  away !  "  She  was 
beating  her  clinched  fist  against  the  arm  of  the  chair 
—  a  way  she  had  when  baffled  or  disturbed.  "  He's 
not  old.  He's  not  fat.  You've  always  picked  some 
silly  flaw  like  that  with  the  partis  I've  found  for  you. 
He's  a  gentleman  —  anybody  can  see  that  —  He's 
rich  —  not  so  rich  as  some  —  but  still  —  And  he 
made  his  money  himself  —  that  is,  the  most  of  it. 
Look  at  his  family,  how  well  — " 

I  knew  Mr.  Holt's  advantages  were  numerous  and 
would  take  her  some  time  to  catalogue,  so  I  began  to 
cast  about  in  my  mind  for  just  what  I  did  mean  to 
do,  that  I  might  enlighten  her  at  the  close  of  her 
inventory.  The  list  was  exhausted,  however,  before 
I  had  settled  on  anything,  and  she  cried  again, 
"  Look !  Look  what  you'd  throw  away !  " 

"  I  know.     But  I  can't  measure  up  to  such  quali- 


8  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

fications  as  those.  Mr.  Holt  has  everything  —  is 
everything.  While  I  am  nothing,  it  appears,  but  a 
penalty  which  he  has  incurred  by  paying  a  few  calls 
at  your  house." 

"  What  in  the  world  those  women  meant  — "  broke 
forth  Aunt  Emmeline.  "  If  I  knew  who  they  were  — 
In  the  first  place  your  reason  for  revolt  is  ridiculous 
—  absolutely.  In  the  second  place,  as  I  said  a  min- 
ute ago,  you  are  married  to  the  man  and  any  objec- 
tion would  be  too  late.  I  intend  — " 

There  was  the  sudden  honking  of  an  auto  horn. 
[Aunt  Emmeline  started  violently  and  rose.  And 
now  I  noticed  that  through  all  the  house  there 
reigned  an  utter  stillness.  The  retreating  footsteps 
had  apparently  carried  news  of  the  mutiny  above. 

"  Come ! "  said  Aunt  Emmeline,  as  if  she  had  no 
more  time  to  lose  and  expected  immediate  compli- 
ance. "  Get  ready  at  once." 

I  looked  in  her  eyes.     "  I  won't,"  I  said. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  all  my  life. 

She  grasped  my  shoulder  in  her  sharp  hand,  tear- 
ing the  silk  away.  "  You  are  married  to  this  man," 
she  repeated.  "  You  will  go." 

"  If  I  am  married  to  him,"  I  answered,  "  then  he 
and  not  you  shall  say  what  I  am  to  do." 

My  old  fear  of  Aunt  Emmeline  was  reviving,  but 
I  would  take  my  chances  with  Mr.  Holt.  "  Go  ask 
my  husband,"  I  said,  "  if  I  am  to  go  with  him  when 
I  don't  want  to." 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  9 

She  looked  at  me  a  moment  longer,  then  she  went 
to  the  door  and  opened  it.  "  Come  in,"  she  said 
to  some  one  just  outside.  And  Mr.  Holt  came  and 
stood  in  the  door. 

I  drew  the  torn  kimono  together  and  looked  in  his 
eyes.  No,  I  couldn't  —  I  couldn't.  And  I  told  him 
so.  I  think  he  must  have  heard  something  down- 
stairs, for  he  evinced  no  astonishment. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said,  "  I  am  sorry  you  didn't 
tell  me  this  yesterday  —  or  last  week,  for  that  mat- 
ter, or  the  week  before." 

"  I  am  sorry,  too,"  I  answered.  For  how  could  I 
tell  him  that  I  had  only  just  known?  How  could 
I  touch  on  what  was  so  new  and  humiliating?  No 
doubt  he  thought  I  had  known  of  Aunt  Emmeline's 
"  blunt  measure  "  all  the  time.  No  doubt  he  sup- 
posed I  had  waited  on  the  stair  while  she  extracted 
his  proposal,  and  had  run  to  her  afterwards,  all 
anxious  and  fearful,  asking  what  he  had  said ! 

Oh,  it  was  sickening! 

He  made  no  reply  to  this,  and  Aunt  Emmeline 
seemed  all  at  once  to  remember  something  in  the  lit- 
tle dressing-room  off  mine.  When  she  had  closed  the 
door  he  came  in  and  stood  very  near  me.  I  wasn't 
looking  at  him  now,  but  down  at  my  veil  which  had 
fallen  from  the  chair  and  was  tangled  all  about  my 
feet.  Strange  it  seems,  when  I  think  of  it,  but  never 
before  had  we  been  together  alone. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said  again,  so  softly  that 


10  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

even  Aunt  Emmeline  could  not  have  heard  him,  "  do 
you  hate  me  so  much?  " 

I  looked  up  quickly.  "  I  don't  hate  you  at  all," 
I  said.  Then  my  eyes  fell  before  his  and  I  covered 
my  face. 

To  think  I  had  been  sneaked  onto  his  doorstep, 
and  he  couldn't  even  take  me  to  an  orphan  asylum ! 

If  I  uncovered  my  resentment  to  him,  would  he 
not  say,  "  But  I  wanted  you  all  the  time !  "  As  he 
had  been  gallant  in  deed,  would  he  not  be  gallant  in 
word? 

Yet  I  could  be  gallant  —  I  too !  —  and  for  my  own 
sake  as  well  as  his. 

"  I  don't  hate  you,"  I  said  behind  my  hands. 
"  But  I  cannot  go  with  you  —  anywhere.  I  cannot 
be  your  wife.  You  must  do  something.  You  will 
know  best  what.  Only  go  away  and  leave  me  — 
please." 

At  that  he  laughed  —  a  short,  low,  sudden  laugh 
that  made  me  uncover  my  face  and  look  at  him.  It 
was  the  sort  of  laugh  one  gives  when  a  child  has  de- 
manded something  quite  absurd  and  impossible. 

"  You  wouldn't  try  to  make  me  go  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"  Heavens,  no !  Only  you  refuse  to  take  your 
wedding  trip  with  me  just  as  if  you  were  declining 
a  second  extra  at  a  dance ! "  And  he  continued  to 
laugh,  standing  there  very  tall  and  fair,  looking  at 
me  with  the  steady  look  from  his  gray-blue  eyes. 

"  I  know  it's  absurdly  late  to  tell  you  this,"  I  said. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  11 

"  I  know  you've  passage  taken,  and  a  villa  leased 
and  —  Couldn't  you  go  alone?  " 

At  that  I  thought  he  was  going  to  laugh  outright, 
but  he  changed  his  mind  and  said  very  gravely, 
"  Perhaps  I  could.  Whatever  I  do,  you  must  write 
to  me  at  once.  You  must  tell  me  — "  he  glanced  to- 
ward the  other  room  — "  you  must  tell  me  just  what 
this  is  that  has  unsettled  you.  You  must  let  me 
know  your  wishes  and  we  must  consult  upon  their 
wisdom  and  your  reason  for  them.  And  please  re- 
member, no  matter  what  they  are  and  no  matter  what 
they  lead  to,  I  stand  ready  to  be  your  friend.  You 
won't  forget  that  ?  " 

Indeed  I  wouldn't!  He  held  out  his  hand  and 
when  I  gave  him  mine  in  answer  I  found  it  enveloped 
in  both  of  his.  He  would  be  kind !  I  felt  this  knowl- 
edge vibrate  from  him  to  me.  He  would  be  gentle 
and  compassionate  and  accept  the  obligation  of  my 
support  as  obediently  as  Aunt  Emmeline  had  done, 
but  Charity  —  that  ice  from  bitter  waters  —  had 
chilled  my  palate  long  enough,  and  I,  who  had 
thought  myself  chosen  by  this  man  —  chosen  for  his 
own  happiness  —  the  conceit  of  me !  —  felt  I  should 
die  rather  than  transfer  myself  to  his  care. 

Slowly  I  drew  my  hand  away,  and  for  a  moment  he 
stood  silent.  Then  he  turned  and  went  quickly  from 
the  room.  I  heard  him  pass  swiftly  down  the  stair, 
and  in  another  moment  the  honk  and  whir  of  a  de- 
parting motor. 


12 

Then  the  dressing-room  door  opened  and  Aunt 
Emmeline  came  in.  She  looked  at  me,  standing  there 
alone,  then  her  glance  fell  on  the  open  door.  And 
then  she  dropped  plump  in  the  big  wing  chair  and  be- 
gan to  cry. 

Whatever  cruel  thing  Aunt  Emmeline  had  said  or 
done  to  me  in  the  past  two  years  —  and  they  were 
not  a  few  —  was  thoroughly  avenged  in  the  next  five 
minutes.  Her  tears  were  not  for  Mr.  Holt,  nor  was 
she  bemoaning,  in  reality,  the  glory  of  all  I  had 
thrown  away. 

She  was  weeping  to  think  of  that  wasted  wedding 
and  the  guests  departing  that  they  might  chuckle  in 
the  darkness  of  their  tonneaux.  She  was  thinking 
of  the  morning  papers  whose  headlines  would  chron- 
icle this  function  with  a  prominence  such  as  her 
most  laboriously  brilliant  social  offerings  had  not 
hitherto  achieved. 

I  felt  very  sorry  for  her.  After  all,  I  had  been 
a  painful  burden,  and  she  had  acted  for  what  she  felt 
was  best.  I  could  have  crept  over  to  her  as  she  sat 
doubled  and  shaking  in  the  wing  chair,  and  offered 
some  word  of  comfort,  but  I  knew  the  reaction  from 
those  rare  tears  boded  no  good  for  me,  and  I  stole 
swiftly  toward  the  adjoining  room,  meaning  to  bolt 
the  door  a  second  time  on  my  safety.  She  surmised 
my  intention,  however,  and  rose  in  my  path,  her  face 
distorted,  her  eyes  blazing. 


"I    DON'T    HATE    YOU    AT    ALL. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  13 

"  Leave  the  house !  "  she  shrieked.  "  Take  your 
trunks  and  go  !  Now !  This  instant !  " 

Perhaps  I  was  dazed  by  the  enormity  of  her  com- 
mand. At  any  rate,  I  answered  at  once,  with  the 
docility  and  cheerfulness  I  had  always  accorded  her 
desires,  "  Yes,  Aunt  Emmeline.  Certainly." 

And  I  went  into  the  room  whither  I  had  started 
and  began  to  do  up  my  hair.  Just  as  I  thrust  in  the 
first  hairpin  I  heard  her  pass  out  into  the  hall,  clos- 
ing the  door  with  a  precision  that  showed  me  her 
wrath  was  concentrating  as  she  went. 

I  turned  quickly  and  began  to  dress. 


II 

It  was  when  I  was  seven  that  I  had  first  seen  Aunt 
Emmeline. 

Tubby  and  I  had  been  playing  in  the  garden. 

Tubby  was  the  boy  who  lived  on  the  other  side  of 
our  brick  wall.  He  was  a  nice  boy  with  one  freckle 
and  I  loved  him  dearly.  We  had  constructed  a  top- 
ply  house  of  fallen  oranges  with  a  yucca  spear  for 
a  cupola.  We  expected  to  inhabit  it  the  rest  of  our 
natural  lives,  and  Tubby  had  just  started  bringing 
in  wood  that  we  might,  when  need  arose,  regale  our 
conjugal  felicity  with  cooked  food.  We  had  each 
abstracted  from  our  respective  pantries,  little  pill- 
boxes of  sugar  and  flour,  and  I  had  a  cologne  bottle 
filled  with  strawberry  extract.  We  were  ready  for 
the  future.  I  was  stacking  these  commodities  on 
the  rungs  of  a  little  step-ladder  which  Tubby  had 
obligingly  stolen  from  somewhere,  when  Black  Annie 
came  out  on  the  porch  and  began  calling.  It  was 
Black  Annie's  custom  to  appear  at  all  crucial  inter- 
vals in  my  life,  but  I  associate  the  memory  of  this 
interruption  with  a  feeling  of  especial  annoyance, 
for  she  announced  that  company  was  coming  and  I 
must  have  my  hair  combed.  Now  the  hair-brush  in 

14 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  15 

our  house  was  a  double  corrective  agency,  the 
bristly  side  being  employed  daily  and  with  infinite 
pains  upon  tangled  hair.  The  other  side  —  the  flat 
side  —  was  employed  otherwise,  not  so  frequently, 
perhaps,  but  with  pains  equally  infinite.  In  each 
instance,  it  was  Black  Annie  who  wielded  it.  Her 
methods  were  primitive,  and,  because  of  her  antiquity, 
and  her  proven  loyalty,  she  was  allowed  some  lati- 
tude in  relieving  her  emotions.  But  when  she 
broached  the  subject  of  the  hair-brush  in  either  ca- 
pacity, I  always  went  under  the  bed.  It  was  a  big 
bed,  a  queer  old  "  four-poster,"  whose  low-hung  pro- 
portions refused  to  shelter  anything  larger  than  a 
very  little  squeezed-up  girl. 

Black  Annie's  bulk  was  phenomenal  and,  although 
the  broom  sometimes  investigatingly  followed  my  in- 
gress, its  contact  was  less  stimulating  than  that  of 
the  hair-brush  must  inevitably  be,  and,  sooner  or 
later,  it  always  retreated  discomfited. 

To-day,  however,  there  was  no  need  of  retiring 
beneath  the  big  bed.  I  was  in  the  wildest,  thickest 
part  of  the  garden  and  Black  Annie  was  too  busy 
to  come  look  for  me.  Safe  as  a  pirate  in  mid-seas, 
I  knew  myself  —  until,  indeed,  Tubby,  himself,  should 
be  called  home,  and  I  must  return  to  Black  Annie  of 
my  own  accord. 

Aunt  Emmeline  was  not  a  widow  then,  and  the 
big,  kind,  cordial  man  beside  her  I  had  straightway 
loved. 


16  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

They  two  were  my  first  glimpse  of  the  outer 
world. 

Before  that,  I  had  no  thoughts  beyond  the  wall 
that  guarded  our  garden  and  the  little  rose-covered 
gate  that  opened  into  the  long  country  road  —  ex- 
cept, to  be  sure,  of  the  stately,  columned  house  next 
door  where  Tubby  lived,  and  the  memories  of  the 
city  we  had  left,  memories  that  grew  fewer,  day  by 
day. 

Here  in  my  leafy  world  I  had  conversed  with  toad 
and  caterpillar,  overcoming  through  compassion  on 
their  groveling  lives  what  might  have  been  terror 
of  the  unbeautiful.  I  knew  the  little  pointed  leaves 
and  the  big  round  ones.  I  knew  the  timid,  prayerful 
ferns  and  the  humble  mosses.  I  lay  in  the  grass 
under  the  magnolia  trees  and  allowed  wee  flying 
things  and  blundering,  creeping  things  to  make  bold 
with  me.  I  had  deep  respect,  but  no  fear,  of  centi- 
pedes and  spotted  tarantulas.  I  knew  their  inten- 
tions, and  since  they  didn't  know  mine,  I  profited 
by  my  advantage  and  kept  out  of  their  way.  I 
caught  in  my  hands  the  white-nosed  bees  and  allowed 
to  the  black-nosed  bees  their  own  freedom.  For  the 
white-nosed  bees  are  as  'harmless  as  the  honey-bells 
they  rifle,  but  the  black-nosed  bees  are  warriors  with 
ready  spears!  Alas!  Why  didn't  I  learn  then  to 
be  a  black-nosed  bee?  Perhaps  I  had  not  been 
caught  and  prisoned  so  many  times ! 

But  I  learned  nothing  except  to  romp  and  roll  in 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  17 

the  grass  and  to  get  burs  in  ray  mop  of  hair.  I 
learned  nothing  except  to  play  under  the  orange 
trees  with  Tubby,  and  to  love  him  dearly,  and  to 
weep  with  rage  whenever  the  woman  in  the  big  house 
next  door  came  looking  for  him  through  a  crack  in 
the  wall  and  commanded  him  to  come  home. 

I  hated  the  woman.  She  wore  a  gray  apron,  and 
her  voice  was  harsh.  There  was  a  lady  next  door 
who  wore  white  dresses  and  had  a  gold  comb  in  her 
hair.  I  loved  the  lady.  But  the  woman  I  planned 
to  slay.  In  cold  blood  one  day  I  climbed  the  wall 
and  cast  a  green  orange  at  the  woman.  Then  I  sat 
huddled  on  the  ground  all  afternoon  regretting  that 
I  had  killed  her.  But  Tubby  came  over  finally  and 
his  omission  to  mention  the  funeral  led  me  to  infer 
that  my  green  orange  had  missed  its  aim.  I  was 
glad.  On  second  thought,  I  didn't  want  to  destroy 
anything  that  belonged  to  Tubby. 

And  then  Tubby  started  a-building  our  house  and 
a-singing  his  little  song  just  where  he  had  left  off. 
For  he  was  a  cheerful,  plodding  little  soul  and  inter- 
ruptions drove  him  to  nothing  so  desperate  as  green 
oranges  and  tears  and  discouragement  with  his  task. 
Song  and  work  started  again  as  blithely  as  if  he  had 
been  a  little  phonograph.  And  the  song  of  Tubby 
was  the  strangest,  comicalest  little  song  I  ever  heard. 
Indeed,  I  never  did  hear  anything  at  all  like  it,  either 
before  or  since. 

It  wasn't  a  song,  really,  but  a  sort  of  gruff  incan- 


18  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

tation,  half  chant,  half  growl  —  like  the  intoning  of 
a  frog,  suddenly  grown  articulate! 

"Old  Monza,  Queen  of  Samarcand, 

She  was   a  doughty  soul! 

She  spanked  her  sons  with  spik-ed  hand, 

And  fed  them  barley  whole! 

And  fed  them  barley  whole!" 

That  was  the  first  verse,  and  the  others  went  on 
to  tell  of  the  eldest  prince  of  Samarcand,  and  the 
next,  and  the  next,  clear  down  to  the  present  king. 

I  have  forgotten  the  words,  but  the  princes  grew 
every  one  to  be  brave  warriors,  and  all  ate  barley 
whole  —  only  Tubby  called  it  "  bollyhole,"  and  I 
always  supposed  it  was  some  sort  of  doughnut,  a 
diet  that  had  its  attractions,  but  I  earnestly  de- 
plored the  necessity  for  the  spik-ed  hand. 

It  sounded  even  worse  than  the  hair-brush. 

And  then,  when  Tubby  had  gone  home  to  return 
no  more  that  day,  and  the  garden  had  become  a 
desert  far  bleaker  than  before  he  came,  there  was 
nothing  left  but  to  go  inside  and  let  Mother  get  the 
burs  out  of  my  hair. 

This  was  the  operation  preceding  Black  Annie's 
brushing,  but  my  mother's  hands  were  slow  and  kind, 
and  we  had  some  of  our  most  comfortable  reunions 
while  she  extracted  burs.  My  mother  never  left  her 
place  by  the  window. 

Always  she  sat  there  in  the  long,  low  chair,  look- 
ing into  the  garden.  And  always,  when  I  came  in, 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  19 

she  turned  to  me  and  smiled.  Sometimes,  before  she 
saw  me,  there  would  be  a  strange  light  in  her  eyes, 
a  lingering,  wistful  glow,  like  the  last  sunset  of  sum- 
mer. But  always  she  turned  —  and  smiled.  And, 
as  she  sat  there,  she  made  with  her  fingers  soft  frocks 
for  me,  frocks  of  infinite,  miraculous  stitches  that  I 
keep  even  now,  rent  and  stained  from  where  I  climbed 
the  wall  or  sat  in  the  trees  with  Tubby.  And  which 
were  the  whiter,  the  frocks  or  her  fingers,  I  cannot 
tell.  But  whiter  than  either  was  her  face,  and  burn- 
ing in  each  cheek  a  red,  red  rose. 

Her  brown-gold  eyes  were  full  of  light  and  their 
least  look  was  a  caress.  There  were  two  curls  on 
either  side  her  face  and  they  brushed  my  cheek  at 
night  when  she  bent  over  me.  They,  too,  had  some- 
thing tender  in  their  touch,  something  vibrant  with 
love. 

Is  it  not  good  to  have  in  the  background  of  one's 
life  a  little  walled-in  garden  of  memories,  where  one 
may  go  back  on  rainy  days  and  gather  flowers  ? 

But  there  was  one  who  knew  what  her  long  looking 
into  the  sunshine  meant.  He  had  left  his  work  in  the 
far  city,  had  my  father,  to  come  with  her  here  where 
the  roses  and  the  sweet  sea  sunshine  might  help  her 
to  forget. 

It  was  only  a  month  after  Hope  had  gone  that 
we  came.  Hope  was  my  sister,  two  years  younger 
than  I,  and  she  had  flitted  away  with  a  wonder  in  her 
round  eyes  and  a  glint  in  her  gold  hair,  as  if  already 


20  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

the  brightness  of  some  heavenly  dawn  had  found  her. 
Lightly  she  had  gone,  and  quickly,  leaving  in  my 
mother's  cheek  the  red,  red  rose,  and  in  my  mother's 
eyes  the  look  of  following. 

A  few  pupils  had  my  father  here.  They  had  fol- 
lowed him  from  the  great  university  and  he  taught 
them  out  under  the  magnolias  in  the  society  of  my 
caterpillars  and  white-nosed  bees.  They  said  rev- 
erend things  about  Plato  which  cling  to  me  even  now, 
and  rolled  out  Latin  words  like  chords  of  music. 
And  though  I  knew  nothing  of  the  meaning  of  the 
things  I  heard,  when  the  wind  is  in  the  south,  I  some- 
times hear  in  my  father's  voice,  blended  with  the 
smell  of  the  magnolias  and  the  drumming  of  the  bees, 

"  Vos  manet,  O   fessi  rerum,  spes  ultima  mortis 
Aeternum  que  ferens  somnum  lethale  papaver ! " 

Spes  ultima!  And  then  the  student  would  depart 
with  his  books  through  the  little  flowered  gate  and 
he,  my  father,  would  go  in  to  her.  He  would  go  in 
and  take  out  his  violin,  and,  tuning  it  a  little,  begin 
to  play.  Looking  back  —  listening  back,  I  think 
he  could  not  have  played  with  the  technical  skill  he 
brought  to  Plato  and  Vergil,  but  I  know  that  those 
who  listened  loved  him  better  after  —  and  that  is  the 
great  test  of  violin  playing!  And  I  know  that  the 
lady  next  door,  the  lady  with  the  gold  comb  in  her 
hair,  sitting  amid  her  lilacs  and  spirea  —  I  know 
she  told  me  that  when  the  nights  were  still,  she  could 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  21 

not  sleep  for  listening  to  his  music  —  its  sweetness 
broke  the  heart. 

Sometimes  my  mother  sang  as  he  played,  sang  in 
a  voice  that  was  like  the  perfume  of  the  roses  in  the 
hedge.  Its  sweetness  broke  the  heart. 

But  there  came  days  when  she  seemed  too  tired  to 
sing,  and  the  violin  sent  its  slender  cry  into  the  night 
alone.  Oftener  and  longer  my  father  played.  It 
was  as  if  they  two  had  less  to  talk  about,  or  were 
afraid  to  talk,  and  in  the  silence  she  would  signal 
toward  the  little  case.  Strangely  enough  I  wished 
now  that  the  violin  would  be  still.  There  was  some- 
thing in  its  note  I  could  not  understand.  It  was 
like  her  looking  into  the  garden,  day  after  day. 

And  then  Aunt  Emmeline  came.  She  was  my 
mother's  half  sister,  and  they  were  very  rich.  I  felt 
some  vague  aloofness  in  her  glance  about  the  Little 
House  and  in  the  rustle  of  her  full  silk  dress. 

They  had  meant  to  tidy  me  before  the  train  came 
in,  but  I  had  not  obeyed  Black  Annie's  call,  so,  hav- 
ing many  things  to  do,  she  had  let  me  be,  and  I  had 
strolled  in  shortly  after  the  arrival  of  the  company, 
bringing  with  me  an  unprecedented  crop  of  burs. 

My  mother  lay  on  the  bed.  She  had  been  there 
three  days,  and  it  looked  as  if  the  roses  in  her  cheeks 
were  angry  and  meant  to  devour  her.  Her  dark  hair 
lay  all  about  her  on  the  pillow,  and  the  little  un- 
finished frock  was  beside  her  on  the  bed.  She  smiled 
at  me. 


22  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

The  Big  Man  and  my  father  were  talking.  The 
Big  Man  opened  his  arms.  "  Come  here,  you 
beauty !  "  he  said. 

"  Beauties  are  usually  tidy,"  remarked  Aunt  Em- 
meline.  "  How  do  you  do,  Zoe  ?  " 

And,  turning,  I  saw  her  for  the  first  time. 

Straightway  I  went  to  my  father  and  climbed  on 
his  knee.  Whereupon,  he  began  clumsily  to  extract 
burs,  and  Aunt  Emmeline  forgot  all  about  me. 

The  next  day  a  strange  man  with  a  satchel  came 
up  from  the  city,  and  the  Big  Man  and  I  took  a  walk 
along  the  beach.  Before  we  left  the  garden  I  intro- 
duced him  to  a  horned  frog,  a  creature  he  confessed 
to  never  having  met  before.  He  let  the  gray,  knob- 
bly thing  escape  while  he  smoothed  my  hair  which 
Annie  had  combed,  and  patted  my  hands  as  they 
twisted  buttercups.  I  wound  the  yellow  chains  about 
his  neck  and  he  wore  them  home  as  if  he  scarcely 
knew  that  they  were  there.  When  we  reached  our 
gate  the  lady  with  the  gold  comb  was  coming  down 
our  walk,  her  fair  young  husband  by  her  side.  The 
lady's  dark  hair  was  rumpled  a  little  and  her  eyes 
were  strange.  She  knelt  before  me  on  the  gravel 
and,  folding  me  about,  kissed  me  and  held  me  in  her 
arms.  Her  hair  smelled  of  lilacs.  I  felt  the  soft 
stir  of  her  heart.  I  was  sorry  when  she  let  me  go. 
But  at  last  she  rose  and  moved  away  without  a  word. 
Her  husband  delayed,  his  hand  resting  on  my  hair, 
then  presently  he  kissed  me  too.  The  Big  Man 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  23 

went  in.  I  looked  up  then  to  see  Tubby  sitting 
upon  the  wall.  I  caught  his  feet  and  pulled  until  he 
descended  and  sat  beside  me  on  the  grass. 

"  When  I  am  grown,"  said  Tubby,  apropos  of 
nothing,  "  I  am  going  to  marry  you." 

"  All  right,"  I  conceded.  For  it  had  always  been 
my  intention  that  he  should. 

"  I  am  going  to  build  you  a  house  out  of  lumber 
and  a  flower-garden  and  fix  a  clothes-line  where  you 
can  hang  out  the  washing." 

"  All  right,"  I  agreed,  moved  deeply  by  the  pros- 
pect of  a  real  clothes-line. 

"  And  when  you  go  away,"  continued  Tubby,  look- 
ing very  fierce  and  swallowing  hard,  "  I'm  going  to 
write  you  letters." 

I  agreed  to  this,  too,  adding  only  that  I  didn't 
mean  to  go  away  —  ever.  At  which  Tubby  looked 
even  fiercer  and,  reaching  into  his  pocket,  drew  forth 
a  fat  stick  of  candy,  and  breaking  it  in  two,  pushed 
half  into  my  hand.  Then  quickly  he  climbed  the 
wall  and  disappeared. 

That  night  I  slept  in  a  far  room  and  there  was  no 
one  to  find  my  nightgown.  I  was  told  only  to  be 
very  quiet  and  not  to  leave  my  bed.  Black  Annie 
passed  my  door  crying,  and  when  I  called  to  her  to 
unbutton  me  she  merely  hugged  me  over  and  over 
and  went  away,  leaving  me  as  hopelessly  fastened  as 
before.  After  which  I  tugged  myself  gradually 
apart  and  put  on  a  little  rumpled  petticoat  in  de- 


24  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

fault  of  a  nightgown.  Then  I  went  to  sleep,  having 
planned  buttercup-chains  for  my  mother  and  Tubby. 

I  was  wakened  by  my  father  at  my  bed.  It  was 
deep  in  the  night  and  the  rain  was  falling.  I  could 
not  understand  at  first.  My  father's  voice  seemed, 
somehow,  part  of  the  rain.  But  finally  I  crept  from 
the  bed  and  he  took  me  by  the  hand. 

I  was  to  come  and  kiss  my  mother  good  night. 

There  are  flowers  in  my  little  walled-in  garden 
that  will  not  bear  the  touch.  They  dwell  in  the  dim 
recesses  of  the  cypress  trees,  and  they  shrink  from 
the  light.  Their  bloom  and  dew  vanish  at  the  brush- 
ing of  a  hand. 

One  morning  I  passed  down  the  little  walk,  cling- 
ing to  my  father's  hand.  Aunt  Emmeline  and  the 
Big  Man  walked  before,  and  Tubby  sat  on  the  wall. 
My  father  passed  into  the  road  and  gave  instruc- 
tions to  the  driver  of  the  hack  that  should  carry  us 
into  town.  Tubby,  at  this  moment,  came  down  from 
the  wall  and  pressed  something  into  my  hand.  It 
was  round  and  hard  and  swathed  in  paper.  Labori- 
ously I  unwrapped  it.  It  was  the  other  half  of  the 
stick  of  candy.  I  looked  up  to  thank  him. 

He  was  gone. 

I  followed  Aunt  Emmeline  through  the  flowered 
gate  and  climbed  into  the  hack. 

I  never  saw  the  Little  House  again. 


in 

Let  me  give  Aunt  Emmeline  her  due. 

From  the  moment  of  our  first  meeting  she  made 
no  pretense.  All  that  she  did  for  me  afterward  had 
its  birth  in  a  sense  of  duty,  a  form  of  philanthropy 
whose  bounties  are  hard  to  accept,  but  harder  still 
to  discharge. 

If  she  had  beheld  in  me  that  morning  some  likeness 
to  her  ideal  of  childhood ;  if  there  had  been  in  me 
some  quality  of  appeal,  even,  that  had  set  vibrating 
in  her  heart  the  longings  she  might  have  known  for 
children  of  her  own,  then  all  her  later  gifts  would 
have  fallen  ripe  from  her  hands.  Giving  would  have 
been  a  rite  simple  enough,  a  pleasant  pastime,  and 
not  a  task  conscientiously  and  painfully  performed. 
That  the  task  was  painful,  and  that  she  performed 
it  conscientiously,  this  acknowledgment  is  her  due. 
Was  it  her  fault  that  I  was  nobody's  ideal?  That 
my  hair  was  a  mop,  that  my  eyes  were  queer?  — 
"  golden "  someone  has  called  them  since,  but, 
frankly,  they  were  precisely  the  shade  of  Tubby's 
cat's.  Later,  as  I  ate  the  ginger  cookies  with  which 
Black  Annie  had  lured  me  from  under  the  bed,  that 
humiliated  soul  commented  on  my  soiled  dress  and 
brown,  scratched  knees. 

25 


26  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  Ain't  you  got  no  reasonment?  "  asked  Black  An- 
nie. *'  You  been  a-rippin'  and  a-snortin'  'round  heah 
lak  a  rattle-snake!  Don'  you  know  when  you  does 
dat  you  ain't  gwine  make  no  impressions  on  comp'ny 
lessen  you  change  yo'  clothes?  " 

It  was  merely  another  way  of  stating  that  old 
truth,  mistreated  of  the  idealists,  that  "  Beauties  are 
usually  tidy  " ! 

When  my  father,  then,  returned  to  his  work  in  the 
university,  the  Big  Man  proposed  that  I  accompany 
them  home.  Aunt  Emmeline  demurred.  She  felt, 
she  said,  that  my  father  and  I  should  not  be  sepa- 
rated. The  Big  Man  replied  that  I  might  visit  my 
father  once  in  a  while ;  that  I  could  not  be  left  in  the 
city  with  no  woman  to  look  after  me. 

Aunt  Emmeline  replied  that  Black  Annie  was  a 
woman. 

But  the  Big  Man  spoke  slightingly  of  "  hirelings  " 
and  said  something  about  training  and  environment. 

He  spoke  so  sternly  that  I  felt  sure  he  was 
angry,  but  he  turned  to  me  suddenly,  and  lifting  me 
to  his  knee  began  to  smooth  my  hair.  Aunt  Emme- 
line caressed  her  black  silk  lap.  She  said  no  more. 

Later,  my  father  came  —  it  was  night  and  Annie 
had  tucked  me  in  bed.  He  sat  by  my  side  in  the 
dim  light  and  held  my  hand.  When  I  fell  asleep,  he 
was  still  there,  my  hand  closed  warm  in  his.  I  had 
prattled  of  many  things.  But  my  father  had  not 
said  a  word. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  27 

The  next  day  I  went  away  with  the  Big  Man  and 
Aunt  Emmeline. 

Their  house  in  New  York  was  very  wonderful. 
The  floors  were  as  slippery  as  polished  amber.  The 
walls  were  covered  with  dim  brocade  and  there  were 
rich  hangings  and  soft  old  rugs.  There  was  one 
great  room  filled  with  pictures  which  strange  people 
sometimes  came  to  see.  And  there  were  queer,  pre- 
cious, carven  relics  in  this  same  room,  and  statues 
of  white  marble  in  out  of  the  way  recesses  about  the 
house,  and  lamps  of  lucent  Venetian  glass,  and  ex- 
quisite ornaments  and  rare  old  books. 

Some  of  these  things  Aunt  Emmeline  liked,  as  for 
instance,  the  strange  lamps  and  the  bric'-a-brac'. 
But  the  Big  Man  used  to  stand  silent  before  the  pic- 
tures, and  explain  the  curios  to  callers  if  they  seemed 
to  care,  and  stroke  the  books  with  gentle,  caressing 
hand.  There  came  a  time  when  we  found  he  had  be- 
queathed these  last  to  my  father,  and  thence  of  course 
they  came  to  me.  They  are  still  with  Aunt  Emmeline, 
and  I  hope  she  will  let  me  have  them.  When  I  finally 
finished  school  these  books  became  my  fairy-land. 
There  were  tales  in  Old  French,  hand-illuminated 
on  parchment,  yellow  as  jonquils;  fragments  of  orig- 
inal manuscript  —  I  remember  one  little  interlined 
page  of  Charles  Dickens',  treasure  of  treasures!  — 
and  quaint  first  editions.  Big  tomes  of  mythology 
and  queer  old  Puritan  anthologies.  I  hope  they  will 
come  to  me  one  day,  not  so  much  for  what  they  are 


28  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

themselves,  as  for  the  ghost  of  the  Big  Man's  hand- 
touch  that  dwells  in  every  one,  and  for  my  father's 
faint,  penciled  marginals,  made  in  the  brief  period 
that  they  were  his. 

It  was  a  treasure  house,  indeed,  this  palace  of 
Aunt  Emmeline's.  Let  me  do  her  further  justice  and 
say  that  she  suffered  much  when  she  introduced  there- 
into so  lawless  a  little  rowdy  as  myself.  As  for  me, 
I  entered  this  domain  of  wealth  and  dignity  with  pre- 
cisely that  attitude  of  mind  in  which  I  crawled  into 
the  topply  orange  house  reared  by  Tubby.  Per- 
haps I  evinced  more  curiosity,  but  I  showed  no  more 
reverence. 

I  ran  up  and  down  the  stairs.  I  skated  on  the 
slippery  floors.  I  peeped  behind  all  the  hangings. 
I  built  a  pyramid  of  rare,  fragile  books  on  the  library 
rug.  I  sang  and  I  called,  flopping  my  great  gypsy 
mane  which  was  the  despair  of  the  French  maid.  I 
drummed  on  the  piano  and  I  teased  the  bored  and 
elegant  Persian  cat. 

The  naughtinesses  which  dissipate  themselves 
harmlessly  in  the  wide  sunlight  of  a  garden,  become 
unendurable  when  confined  in  close  and  unaccustomed 
quarters.  Aunt  Emmeline  was  driven  well-nigh 
distrait. 

Her  hitherto  peaceful  days  were  given  over  to 
restraining  me  —  or  attempting  to  —  into  something 
bordering  on  decorum.  "  Lady  like  "  was  her  slo- 
gan. I  had  never  heard  the  phrase  before,  and  it 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  29 

filled  me  with  a  vague  internal  shrinking,  the  feeling 
one  has  in  contemplating  a  height  both  difficult  and 
undesirable.  Through  all  my  body  I  felt  the  ac- 
cumulation of  energies  which  the  staid  walks  in  the 
park  —  I  wasn't  allowed  to  run  —  rather  aggra- 
vated than  removed.  I  wanted  to  dance,  to  jump,  to 
cry  aloud.  Oh,  to  stretch  my  body  in  a  quick  climb 
up  the  wall  with  Tubby !  To  leap  from  the  top  amid 
the  soft  grass  and  the  pansies  1  One  day  I  thought 
of  the  banisters.  Others  may  have  slid  down  stair- 
railings  before  me,  but  I  had  never  heard  of  it.  So 
far  as  I  was  concerned,  it  was  a  purely  original  sin. 
Surely,  I  conceived,  one  could  trip  softly  up  the  car- 
peted stair,  and,  mounting  at  the  top,  do  silent  and 
ecstatic  chutes  through  long,  delicious  hours!  And 
if  no  one  were  disturbed,  wherein  lay  the  crime? 

It  was  some  reasoning  of  this  sort  that  brought 
about  my  banishment.  For  on  my  third  descent  — > 
Oh,  the  heaven  of  those  preceding  moments! — • 
Aunt  Emmeline  elected  to  come  down  in  a  manner 
more  approved,  and,  discovering  my  orgy  at  mid- 
height,  called  Minette  to  rescue  and  restrain  me. 
Then  slje  retired  to  her  room  and  wrote  a  certain  let- 
ter to  my  father.  Next  week  she  received  another 
in  return  and  its  news  was  broached  to  me.  I  was 
to  go  to  a  convent  —  St.  Ursula's  —  and  it  was  only 
a  short  distance  from  the  university  where  my  father 
lived.  It  was,  therefore,  next  door  to  heaven,  and 
a  most  extraordinary  place,  it  appeared  to  me,  to 


30  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

send  a  little  girl  for  her  sins.  The  very  magnitude 
of  my  joy  repressed  me  into  something  like  quiet  for 
the  two  days  I  remained.  Aunt  Emmeline  was 
equally  rejoiced,  and  I  think  Minette,  who  had  had 
charge  of  me,  thanked  her  especial  saint  with  hourly 
fervor.  Only  the  Big  Man  was  silent.  The  evening 
before  I  left  he  held  me  on  his  knees  and  read  to  me 
until  his  voice  grew  tired.  J  must  have  gone  to  sleep 
in  his  arms,  for  I  dimly  remember  Minette  receiving 
my  hand  from  his  and  guiding  me  as  I  stumbled  up 
the  stair. 

Three  years  I  stayed  at  the  convent.  Three  brief 
years,  crowded  with  the  memory  of  other  little  girls, 
of  dark-veiled  women  with  kind  eyes,  of  swings  un- 
der the  trees  and  shaded  walks :  of  a  rounded,  laugh- 
ing priest  who  taught  us  games  and  dressed  in  queer 
robes  for  mass  or  vespers;  of  rosaries  and  incense 
and  angelus  bells ;  of  lessons  in  French  and  painting 
flowers ;  of  learning  to  write  letters  and  do  sums,  to 
sew  and  to  dance.  All  this  was  a  new  world,  for  I 
had  never  been  taught  anything  at  all,  unless  it  was 
my  prayers  and  a  little  German  song  or  two. 

And  this  new  world's  pleasant  chaos  was  broken 
rhythmically  by  those  golden,  distinct  Sundays  when 
my  father  came  to  see  me  and  took  me  to  the  parks 
and  to  ride  on  the  street  cars. 

I  was  eleven  when  I  left  the  convent  and  both  my 
father  and  the  Big  Man  were  gone.  I  had  no  one 
now  in  all  the  world,  except  Aunt  Emmeline. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  31 

But  I  was  better  behaved.  I  had  learned  to  say, 
"  Yes,  Aunt  Emmeline,"  and  "  No,  Aunt  Emmeline." 
I  could  sit  for  an  hour  with  my  hands  folded  in  my 
lap,  and  I  could  play  nice  little  pieces  on  the  piano, 
and  courtesy  when  I  was  brought  in  to  see  company. 
Aunt  Emmeline  was  very  pleased  with  me,  but  she 
said  it  reminded  her  too  much  of  Uncle  Richard 
to  have  me  in  the  house,  so  I  was  sent  to  Miss 
Trippett's  School  for  Girls,  two  hours'  ride  from 
town. 

At  Miss  Trippett's  I  learned  still  other  things. 
For  example,  the  iniquity  of  unpolished  nails,  and  of 
ribbons  out  of  tone  with  one's  frock.  I  learned  that 
the  absence  of  lace  on  one's  petticoat,  that  to  be 
shabby,  and,  above  all,  mended,  removed  one  from  all 
title  to  affiliation  with  "  us." 

And  yet,  in  spite  of  all,  I  came  to  love  Rebecca 
Hardy,  the  housekeeper's  little  girl.  Rebecca  com- 
mitted daily  all  this  list  of  crimes.  She  was  shabby 
and  mended  too.  Her  plain  frock  was  covered  with 
plainer  pinafores,  and  everybody  knows  that  pina- 
fores vanished  with  the  dinosaur.  Moreover,  she 
wore  no  ribbons  at  all,  but  a  round-comb !  It  was  the 
only  round-comb  I  had  ever  seen,  and  its  use  effected 
on  Rebecca  a  peeled  brow  and  an  out-standing 
coiffure  that  were  the  butt  of  Miss  Trippett's. 

But  under  the  cropped,  queer  hair,  what  a  sturdy, 
kindly  comfortable  little  countenance !  There  was  a 
freckle  on  her  nose  like  Tubby's,  and  she  had  some- 


32  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

thing  of  Tubby's  smile,  and  I  loved  her.  I  loved  her 
with  a  deep  and  absorbing  love,  and  I  fought  for  her 
among  the  girls  like  a  little  tigress. 

In  the  presence  of  Miss  Trippett,  Rebecca's  mother 
was  as  silent  and  weary-faced  as  the  most  approved 
housekeeper  I  ever  knew,  but  alone  with  Rebecca  and 
me,  she  grew  loquacious  and  even  demonstrative,  slip- 
ping out  of  the  storeroom  as  I  passed,  and  giving  me 
a  hug  and  a  cooky  and  a  shower  of  pet  names,  all  in 
the  space  of  a  breath. 

Rebecca  didn't  go  to  the  classes  at  Miss  Trippett's. 
She  went  to  the  public  school  in  the  street  below.  On 
bright  days  and  dull  days,  through  wind  and  rain 
and  sleet,  we  saw  her  trudging  through  the  big  stone 
portals,  her  little  second-hand  books  under  her  arm 
and  her  little  outgrown  coat  buttoned  tight  across 
her  chest.  And  when  she  came  back  in  the  afternoon 
I  was  waiting  on  the  cellar  steps,  having  sneaked  out 
of  the  play-room  upstairs. 

Rebecca  didn't  mind  the  snubs  of  the  girls,  not 
she !  As  for  going  to  the  public  school,  she  said  one 
could  learn  more  there  than  at  Miss  Trippett's. 

She  said  Miss  Trippett's  girls  were  snobs. 

It  was  a  horrible  word.  It  made  me  think  of 
"  lady  like." 

But  Rebecca  said  that  I  wasn't  a  snob,  and  she 
cried  very  much  when  we  embraced  for  the  last  time 
upon  the  cellar  steps.  She  said  she  would  write  to 
me.  And,  unlike  Tubby,  she  kept  her  word. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  33 

From  Miss  Trippett's  I  went  to  Chenevix  Sem- 
inary. Chenevix  was  the  blossom  as  Miss  Trippett's 
had  been  the  bud.  It  was  a  "  finishing  "  school  — 
and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  Big  Man's  library  — 
But  the  library  was  there,  like  a  forest  of  enchanted 
flowers,  and  I  had  finally  long  days  of  leisure  to  wan- 
der, and  gather  what  I  could. 

At  last  I  came  back  to  Aunt  Emmeline  for  good. 

"  Zoe,"  she  said  then,  "  I  have  done  everything  for 
you  since  your  father  died.  We  promised  your 
mother  —  that  is,  Richard  did  —  that  we  would  look 
after  you  if  your  father's  heart  failed,  and  we  have. 
I  tried,  as  you  know,  to  keep  you  here  from  the  be- 
ginning, but  that  was  impossible.  I  intend  to  do  my 
duty  by  you  until  the  end,  and  I  hope  that  you  won't 
prove  a  failure  or  a  disappointment.  As  you  re- 
alize, perhaps,  your  father  left  you  practically  noth- 
ing —  something  like  five  hundred  dollars,  which  your 
Uncle  Richard  wasn't  here  to  improve  for  you,  and 
which,  when  you  marry,  I  will  give  you." 

"  Let  me  take  it  now,"  I  said,  "  and  go  somewhere 
and  work."  For  Aunt  Emmeline's  voice  had  held 
a  note  of  weariness  that  hurt  me.  Though  tired  with 
dragging  her  burden,  she  had  lifted  it  to  her  shoul- 
ders, and  she  seemed  scarcely  equal  to  the  weight. 

"  Work?  "  echoed  Aunt  Emmeline.  "  What  could 
you  do  ?  " 

What,  indeed?  Miss  Trippett's  and  Chenevix  do 
not  fit  girls  for  work. 


34  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  No,  Zoe.  I  have  no  patience  with  this  modern 
mania  of  women  for  self-support.  They  invariably 
end  with  marriage,  so  why  not  aim  toward  it  in  the 
beginning?  I  have  fitted  you  to  marry  into  wealth 
and  position,  and  I  shall  give  you  every  opportunity 
to  accomplish  it.  I  shall  place  you  in  the  hands  of 
the  best  modistes  and  coiffeuse.  I  will  surround  you 
with  the  most  brilliant  eligibles  in  New  York.  I  will 
give  you  setting  and  background,  with  all  that  means 
—  for  two  years.  Then  I  shall  be  through." 

Two  years !  And  at  the  end  of  that  time  I  must 
marry  or  — 

"  What  shall  I  do  if  I  don't  marry  ?  "  I  asked.  For 
I  had  never  contemplated  marrying  anybody  —  ex- 
cept Tubby. 

"  You  will  marry,"  said  Aunt  Emmeline.  "  Leave 
it  to  me." 

She  introduced  me  at  a  dinner.  The  inevitable 
reception  had  occurred  that  afternoon,  but  the  din- 
ner was  the  coup  de  mattre.  I  cannot  suppress  a 
chuckle,  even  now,  when  I  review  that  flower-brimmed 
board,  surrounded  by  the  richest  bachelors  in  New 
York  and  the  ugliest  girls ! 

"  One  must  have  girls,"  said  Aunt  Emmeline. 

So  she  did  her  best  to  make  me  shine  by  contrast. 

She  was  a  general  in  her  way. 

And  what  thought  she  had  given  to  my  dress ! 
Dead  white  it  was,  the  filmiest  and  softest,  with  my 
hair  most  simply  done.  Aunt  Emmeline  was  for 


35 

placing  an  aigrette  in  my  hair,  but  Madame  Ninon, 
in  whose  ateliers  all  my  dresses  had  been  composed, 
and  who  had  come  herself  to  supervise  my  toilet — * 
Madame  Ninon  held  up  her  plump  hands  with  hor- 
ror as  spectacular  as  though  Aunt  Emmeline  had 
proposed  the  amputation  of  my  head. 

"  An  aigrette  in  that  glorious  dark  ?     But  no !  " 

So  I  descended  without  ornament  save  for  the  ruby 
at  my  throat.  I  was  a  little  frightened  at  first  — 
more  frightened  than  during  the  afternoon  —  but  as 
the  dinner  advanced,  I  felt  somehow,  steeped  in 
laughter.  If  the  girls  were  ugly,  they  had  their 
match  in  the  eligibles.  And  then  it  was  so  absorb- 
ing to  watch  Aunt  Emmeline! 

Perhaps  I  did  look  at  Mr.  Holt  that  night.  Per- 
haps I  have  looked  at  him  since.  I  do  not  know. 

It  was  all  over  at  last,  and  Aunt  Emmeline,  paus- 
ing at  my  door,  said  complacently,  "  You're  a  suc- 
cess, Zoe.  You'll  be  married  in  six  months." 

But  I  wasn't. 

When  she  presented  her  candidates  I  grew  ill.  I 
knew  it  was  an  illness  I  couldn't  afford,  but  the 
malady  advanced  with  every  proposal  I  received. 
There  was  the  fat  millionaire  first  of  all.  Aunt  Em- 
meline had  set  her  heart  on  my  accepting  him,  and  it 
was  with  a  wrench  that  she  finally  transferred  her 
hopes  to  the  lean  one.  After  the  lean  one,  came  a 
widower.  He,  too,  had  millions  of  dollars  and  al- 
most as  many  children.  There  was  another  million- 


36  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

aire  who  was  older  than  my  grandfather  might  have 
been.  He  had  a  beautiful  toupet  and  a  very  nice 
cane,  but  I  didn't  want  him.  And  another  with 
bleary  eyes  who  tried  to  kiss  me  and  acted  precisely 
as  if  he  were  going  to  eat  me  instead. 

And  I  continued  to  refuse,  laughingly  at  first,  then 
tearfully,  then  half  afraid  —  for  the  two  years  were 
almost  done  and  Aunt  Emmeline  was  waxing  furious 
with  my  folly.  So,  finally,  she  presented  Mr.  Holt, 
and  I  promised  her,  in  a  sort  of  panic,  to  marry  him. 
It  was  a  relief  to  contemplate  him  after  the  others. 
He  was  so  quiet  and  so  kind.  So  tall  and  clean  and 
strong.  And  I  didn't  know  that  she  had  bullied  him 
as  she  had  bullied  me. 

And,  after  all,  I  had  been  a  disappointment ! 

Not  a  failure  —  indeed,  she  had  prevented  that ! 
—  but  a  disappointment  on  the  heels  of  triumph,  an 
anti-climax,  a  disgrace!  Here  I  stood,  the  tower  of 
her  success  fallen  about  us  at  my  touch,  all  her  care- 
fully applied  veneer  rubbed  from  me  in  a  twinkling, — 
here  I  stood,  the  identical  young  rowdy  who  had  al- 
ways wrought  such  havoc  in  her  house !  What  won- 
der she  had  risen  in  this  final  hour  and  ordered  me 
away! 

I  was  dressed  at  last,  and  I  adjusted  my  little  fur 
hat  without  even  looking  in  the  glass.  It  was  my 
"  going  away  "  hat,  and  truly  I  was  going  away ! 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  87 

I  lifted  from  their  satin  nest  the  pearls  that  had 
been  Mr.  Holt's  marriage  gift,  and  having  inventoried 
them  again,  brooch  and  bracelet  and  ear-rings,  shim- 
mering necklace  and  tiara,  I  replaced  them,  and,  slip- 
ping off  my  wedding  ring,  laid  it  among  them,  lock- 
ing the  velvet  case  and  thrusting  it  into  my  satchel 
that  Katy  had  packed  for  the  steamer.  I  would  re- 
turn them  all  as  soon  as  Mr.  Holt  should  come  back 
from  his  solitary  wedding  journey. 

The  door  burst  open.  It  was  Katy  and  she  was 
crying  so,  she  had  forgotten  to  knock. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Zoe !  "  she  broke  forth.  "  Is  it  wild  the 
mistress  has  gone?  Is  it  mad  she  is,  a-sendin*  you 
out  into  the  night?  " 

"  Quiet  now,  Katy,"  I  soothed.  "  Think  of  your- 
self, or  you  may  get  sent  too.  I'll  be  all  right." 

"  Oh,  the  darlin'  that  you  are ! "  cried  Katy,  with 
whom  violence  always  took  the  form  of  poetry. 
"  The  treasure  —  wid  yure  eyes  like  stars  and  yure 
dimples  and  the  bonny,  bonny  hair!  And  if  you 
don't  love  the  mon,  for  why  did  she  make  you  morry 
him?  And  for  why  should  you  go  a-travelin'  with  a 
mon  you  don't  want?  Oh,  mavourneen,  you  mustn't 
lave  —  not  like  this !  " 

And  she  hugged  me  till  I  thought  I  should  break, 
and  kissed  me  on  my  ears  and  nose  and  anywhere  she 
happened  to  alight.  And  I  hugged  her  back,  dear 
Katy,  and  begged  her  with  all  my  might  not  to  worry, 


38  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

not  to  fear.  At  length  she  calmed  from  sheer  ex- 
haustion, and  handed  me  a  rather  crumpled  envelope. 
Even  before  I  opened  it,  I  knew  what  was  inside. 
It  held  my  five  hundred  dollars  in  ten  fifty-dollar 
bills.  How  punctilious  Aunt  Emmeline  was,  even 
to  the  last !  But  I  was  glad  of  the  money.  I  knew 
I  should  need  it.  "  Katy,"  I  said,  scribbling  hastily, 
"  here  is  my  address.  Have  my  trunks  sent  there, 
and  any  mail  that  may  come  to  me."  Katy  sobbed 
that  she  would,  and  added  that  she  had  not  feared 
a  lack  of  places  for  me  to  go  to,  she  knew  the  grand 
friends  I  had  —  bless  her  innocent  heart !  I  patted 
her  shoulder,  just  as  one  pets  a  pony's  when  the 
fright  is  done,  and  asked  her  to  call  a  carriage  for 
me.  Katy  had  not  known  me  until  after  the  re- 
formatory influences  of  Miss  Trippett's,  which  per- 
haps accounts  for  her  unspoiled  attachment.  I 
thanked  her  for  all  she  had  done  and  remembered  to 
hope  that  the  relative  who  was  ill  in  Ireland  —  Katy 
always  has  a  relative  ill  in  Ireland  —  would  recover 
in  record  breaking  time.  I  left  her  shaking  a  hope- 
less head,  but  restored  to  familiar  ground. 

Downstairs  a  solitary  maid  was  gathering  up  the 
litter  that  follows  a  party.  There  was  a  close  smell 
of  dead  flowers.  The  arch  with  its  drooping  roses, 
the  presents  piled  in  the  library,  all  seemed  futile 
shadows  in  some  dissipated  dream. 

I  opened  the  great  doors  and  passed  out  into  the 
night. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  39 

•  •••••• 

Of  all  the  friends  whom  Katy  had  called  mine,  it 
was  Rebecca  Hardy  to  whom  I  turned  in  need.  Her 
mother  had  left  Miss  Trippett's  and  was  taking 
boarders.  Many  times  I  had  slipped  away  to  see 
them,  and  twice  I  had  lunched  with  them  down-town. 
But  they  never  came  to  call  on  me  —  never  but  once. 
On  that  occasion  they  had  met  Aunt  Emmeline,  and 
she  had  said  something  about  the  rear  entrance  and 
the  maids'  parlor.  She  knew  they  had  come  to  see 
me  and  not  the  maids,  but  she  knew,  too,  of  their  late 
position  at  Miss  Trippett's,  and  of  my  friendship 
for  Rebecca  —  a  thing  she  deplored. 

I  had  slipped  them  a  card  to  my  wedding  and  I 
learned  afterward  that  Rebecca  had  been  there  — 
not  at  the  reception,  of  course,  but  in  the  church. 
I  had  felt  as  I  moved  down  the  long  aisle  that  Re- 
becca was  there  —  back  in  a  dark  corner,  perhaps  — 
but  there! 

And  I  turned  to  her  now,  sure  of  a  welcome,  an 
astonished  one,  maybe,  but  a  welcome,  nevertheless ! 


IV 

And  this  was  just  Saturday  night! 

It  seems  ages  ago,  and  I  think  I  have  written  of 
it  as  if  I  were  excavating  something  buried  and  half 
forgotten.  Yet  nothing  is  forgotten.  I  recall  even 
the  glint  of  the  pearl  in  Mr.  Holt's  tie  as  he  stood 
looking  down  at  me  there  in  my  room.  I  remember 
vaguely  wondering  if  it  were  one  of  his  mother's 
pearls  as  were  those  he  had  given  me! 

And  I  remember  Rebecca's  face  as  she  opened  the 
front  door.  Hers  was  the  wide  look  of  the  pro- 
foundly stupefied.  She  had  supposed  me  on  my  way 
to  Italy  with  Mr.  Holt.  She  had  seen  the  bishop 
in  his  robes  and  me  in  mine.  She  had  heard  the  pad- 
lock when  it  snapped  and  she  had  seen  us  get  into 
one  carriage  and  ride  away.  Now  here  I  stood,  hus- 
bandless  and  shipless,  between  my  satchels  on  her  own 
front  stoop!  I  think  Rebecca  was  entitled  to  one 
look,  at  least,  of  stupefaction.  Yet  before  she  had 
closed  the  door  it  was  gone,  and  her  greeting,  though 
a  bit  tremulous,  was  much  what  it  had  always 
been. 

"  I've  come  to  stay  with  you  a  little  while,"  I  ex- 
plained. 

40 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  41 

"  Fine !  "  said  Rebecca.  "  Give  me  your  satchels. 
Mamma,  here's  Zoe  Ballentyne." 

*'  What?  "  Mrs.  Hardy's  answer  sounded  like  the 
snapping  of  a  string.  She  came  to  the  door,  a  large, 
billowing  figure,  taking  off  her  glasses. 

"  Why,  for  heaven's  sake !  "  she  said,  and  sat  down, 
utterly  at  a  loss. 

"  Have  you  had  supper,  Zoe  ?  "  asked  Rebecca. 

After  a  moment's  reflection  I  remembered  that  I 
hadn't  and  she  led  me  down  to  the  dining-room,  which 
is  in  the  basement.  To  my  great  surprise  I  ate.  I 
hadn't  supposed  I  should  ever  want  to  eat  again,  but 
I  did,  and  I  felt  better  afterward.  When  we  came 
upstairs,  Mrs.  Hardy  had  recovered  sufficiently  to 
join  us,  and  Rebecca,  lifting  one  of  my  satchels,  led 
the  way  to  the  second  floor. 

"  Mr.  Simms  is  away  now,"  she  said,  "  and  you 
may  have  his  room.  It's  all  done  over  fresh." 

Then,  while  Rebecca  turned  down  the  bed  and 
unpacked  my  bags,  and  Mrs.  Hardy  billowed  herself 
over  a  rocker,  I  told  them  the  whole  story  from  be- 
ginning to  end. 

Mrs.  Hardy  looked  more  bewildered  than  ever. 
"  Asked  him  his  intentions,"  she  repeated.  "  But, 
dearie,  that  sounds  very  nice  and  proper  to  me. 
Well!  Well!" 

But  Rebecca,  who  was  sitting  beside  me  now,  gazed 
at  me  with  her  steady  eyes  and  said  simply,  "  I  un- 
derstand." That  was  all.  But  I  realized  suddenly 


4£  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

how  terrible  the  day  had  been,  and  how  sore  my  heart 
was.  Rebecca's  single  phrase  had  fallen  on  me  like 
a  healing  balm. 

I  felt  I  should  like  to  sleep. 

"Well!  Well!"  said  Mrs.  Hardy  again,  and 
kissing  me  good  night,  billowed  perplexedly  from  the 
room. 

Rebecca  tucked  me  in  after  her  motherly  fashion, 
and  in  silence  her  kiss  fell  on  my  face. 

When  the  light  was  put  out  I  seemed  to  sink  into 
the  pillows  as  in  a  sea. 

The  rattle  of  dishes  awoke  me.  Mr.  Simms,  it 
appears,  dwells  above  the  dining-room.  It  was  broad 
day.  I  stretched  myself,  wondering.  Then  suddenly 
I  remembered  everything.  I  was  just  about  to  bound 
out  of  bed,  when  the  door  opened  and  Rebecca  came 
in  bearing  a  tray. 

"  How  rested  you  look ! "  she  cried,  and  placed  my 
breakfast  on  a  table  close  to  the  bed.  I  hoped  she 
would  sit  down  beside  me,  but,  after  drawing  down 
the  window  and  opening  the  register,  she  flew  out 
again,  saying  something  about  her  table. 

I  had  no  more  finished  my  coffee  than  Mrs.  Hardy 
came  in.  There  was  something  almost  furtive  in  her 
entrance  and  in  the  careful,  noiseless  way  in  which 
she  closed  the  door.  She  nodded  for  greeting,  and, 
seating  herself  on  the  bed,  spread  open  a  morning 
paper. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  43 

I  had  known  what  it  would  be,  but  the  actual  sight 
of  it  took  my  breath  away.  Mr.  Holt's  picture  and 
mine,  framed  in  each  half  of  a  broken  heart !  Little 
wounded  loves  chunking  each  other  with  money- 
bags! And  head-lines!  Head-lines!  Poor  Aunt 
Emmeline ! 

"  You  ought  to  hear  the  boarders ! "  said  Mrs. 
Hardy.  "  Rebecca  won't  let  me  tell  them  you're  in 
the  house.  How  interested  they'd  be  if  they  knew! 
Is  he  as  handsome  as  his  picture,  Zoe?  " 

I  assured  her  that  Mr.  Holt's  picture  did  not  do 
him  justice.  She  held  off  the  paper  and  regarded  it 
through  her  glasses. 

"  And  has  he  done  all  the  wonderful  things  the 
paper  says  he's  done?  Is  he  so  rich  and  all  that?  " 

As  far  as  I  could,  I  reassured  her  on  these  points 
also.  I  hadn't  read  the  papers  and  didn't  intend 
to. 

"  They  say  he's  lived  a  lot  in  the  West,  roughing 
it.  I  had  a  cousin  lived  out  West.  His  name  was 
Theodore.  He  was  a  gardener  there.  But  he 
turned  into  a  cow-boy.  Life  is  strange !  " 

With  this  ponderous  reflection  she  rose  hastily. 
Her  escape,  however,  was  not  properly  timed,  for  she 
met  Rebecca  in  the  door.  Gathering  the  paper  to- 
gether she  thrust  it  behind  her.  But  Rebecca  saw. 

"  Mother !  "  she  cried.  And  Mrs.  Hardy  scuttled 
out,  looking  for  all  the  world  like  a  naughty  child. 

"  It's  all  right,"  I  said,  trying  to  seem  as  if  I 


44  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

enjoyed  all  the  mess  I'd  gotten  myself  into.  "I'd 
have  seen  the  papers  sometime.  Let  me  get  through 
the  worst  of  it  and  go  on." 

"  True  enough,"  said  Rebecca.  "  And  the  papers 
along  with  everybody  else,  will  have  forgotten  the 
whole  thing  in  a  week's  time.  Where  did  you  get 
the  pretty  book  ?  " 

She  picked  up  the  little  journal  in  which  I  have 
been  writing  since  I  came.  It  lay  among  the  dis- 
gorged contents  of  my  satchel,  a  delicate,  lavender 
scented  thing,  bound  in  blue  and  gold.  Lila  Faire, 
one  of  my  bridesmaids,  had  thrust  it  among  my 
things,  and  asked  me  to  write  in  it  every  day.  It  is 
a  Honeymoon  Journal,  and  one  is  supposed  to  note 
in  it  all  the  interesting  things  one  sees  on  the  wed- 
ding trip. 

"  Shall  you  write  in  it  ?  "  asked  Rebecca. 

I  shook  my  head,  laughing  at  the  thought. 

Yet,  strangely  enough,  I  have  written.  It  has 
helped  me  to  think. 

February  14th 

I  have  been  here  two  days  and  have  not  yet  de- 
scended to  the  dining-room.  Rebecca  has  compelled 
me  to  "  lay  low,"  lest  I  be  recognized  and  subjected 
to  some  embarrassment. 

This  is  foolish,  and  cannot  last.  I  must  face  the 
world.  I  must  find  something  to  do. 

I  am  afraid  of  the  world.     The  earth,  I  love. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  45 

When  I  think  of  the  earth,  I  think  of  a  shining  star 
hung  in  blue  space.  I  think  of  shaggy  trees,  and 
friendly  lanes,  and  the  smell  of  broken  sod  and  un- 
folding flowers.  I  think  of  winds  and  rivers  and  the 
wild,  singing  sea.  I  think  of  God. 

One  day  I  said  to  Hope :  "  Let's  go  to  the  end 
of  the  world !  " 

She  agreed  at  once,  and  with  neither  purse  nor 
scrip,  we  set  forth  through  the  crack  in  the  back 
fence,  proceeding  down  the  alley.  We  met  every- 
body's trash-pile  and  garbage  can.  We  met  stray 
cats  who  got  out  of  our  way  with  agile  reverence. 
And  presently,  we  met  a  turkey  cock.  His  tail  was 
spread,  his  chest  protruded,  his  comb  hung  san- 
guinely.  He  peered  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the 
left,  but  with  measured  and  terrible  tread,  moved 
straight  toward  us. 

Too  horrified  to  cry  out,  I  seized  Hope  by  the  hand 
and  we  turned  in  the  apparition's  very  teeth  and 
fled.  Nor  did  we  stop  for  breath  until  the  familiar 
crack  had  again  received  us.  I  have  never  cared 
since  to  go  to  the  end  of  the  world.  But  I  must  set 
out. 

To-day  I  looked  down  the  want  ad's.  Surely 
somebody  needs  a  perfectly  worthless  young  lady. 

"  Rebecca,"  I  said  this  afternoon,  "  I  am  starting 
out  to-morrow."  We  sat  in  what  Mrs.  Hardy  calls 
her  "  office."  It  has  a  folding  bed  and  a  desk  in  it. 
She  sleeps  there  at  night. 


46 

"Starting  out?"  said  Mrs.  Hardy.  "Do  you 
mean  you're  going  to  find  your  husband?  " 

"  No,  Mother,"  spoke  Rebecca.  "  Zoe  means  she's 
going  to  find  work.  There  are  plenty  of  things  she 
can  do." 

"  Well,  well !  "  said  Mrs.  Hardy.  "  Now,  Zoe,  tell 
me  this."  She  took  off  her  glasses  and  turned  to- 
ward me.  "  When  your  aunt  asked  the  young  man 
his  intentions,  did  he,  now  —  'did  he  say  they  weren't 
! —  honorable?  " 

"  Oh,  gracious,  Mother !  No ! "  answered  Re- 
becca. 

"  Then  what  on  earth  — " 

"  Simply  this :  Zoe  is  not  a  female  of  Morocco 
to  be  bought  by  the  pound,  and  she's  nice  enough  to 
be  asked  for  spontaneously." 

"Well,  well!"  said  Mrs.  Hardy.  "What  girls 
do  think  about !  " 

I  was  meditating  to-day  on  a  married  pair  I  used 
to  know.  They  lived  in  the  little  pink  cottage  next 
door  to  Miss  Trippett's.  The  man  used  to  wheel 
himself  out  in  his  invalid  chair  and  watch  us  play 
basket-ball. 

He  was  a  very  harmless  man,  so  Miss  Trippett 
raised  no  objection.  In  some  pre-historic  time  a 
bullet  had  gone  through  his  tongue,  leaving  him  dumb. 
Impulsively  swallowing  the  missile,  he  had  done  some 
damage  to  his  spine,  and  he  couldn't  move  thereafter, 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  47 

except  to  wheel  the  chair  along  the  side  of  the  fence. 
And  to  smile.  He  smiled  invariably  when  we  grew 
emotional  in  our  defeats  cw  unanimously  pulled  the 
umpire's  hair. 

The  man's  name  was  Jeremiah.  We  knew  because 
his  wife  called  him  that  —  all  of  it.  She  used  to  run 
all  over  the  neighborhood  gathering  news.  I  think 
she  ran  out  of  things  to  tell  Jeremiah,  for  when  she'd 
return  it  would  be  so  gleefully  if  she'd  heard  any- 
thing, and  so  contritely,  if  she  hadn't.  She  was  a 
little  wisp  of  a  woman,  with  starched  skirts  and  thin, 
red  cheeks.  I  think  now  she  painted  her  cheeks  to 
cheer  Jeremiah.  We  used  to  hear  her  unfolding  all 
the  tales  she  had  gathered  from  parlor  or  basement 
stoop,  from  over  fence  or  bargain  counter,  and  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  sometimes  she  trimmed  up  her 
gleanings,  just  as  she  did  her  cheeks  —  the  better  to 
cheer  Jeremiah. 

And  Jeremiah  used  to  swallow  it  all  —  just  as  he 
had  the  bullet  —  and  nod  slowly,  and  smile. 

And  she'd  wheel  him  up  and  down,  and  look  so  com- 
pensated and  relieved. 

It  must  be  pleasant  to  tell  things  to  such  a  man. 
One  who  couldn't  comment  or  rebuke  —  or  advise. 
One  who  would  simply  receive  your  tidings  —  and 
smile. 

This  Honeymoon  Journal  shall  be  my  Jeremiah. 
I've  always  wanted  one. 


K 

February  15th 

I  have  met  my  turkey  cock ! 

This  morning  before  breakfast  I  got  the  paper 
and  found  where  a  certain  lady,  away  over  in  Uni- 
versity Square,  had  advertised  for  a  companion. 
"  Must  be  quiet  and  refined,"  I  read,  "  have  a  pleas- 
ing voice  and  a  retiring  presence." 

"  Rebecca,"  I  said,  "  what  is  a  retiring  presence?  " 

Mrs.  Hardy  sat  up  very  prim  and  straight. 

"  It's  lady-like,"  she  said. 

I  felt  suddenly  ill. 

*'  No,"  said  Rebecca,  "  it's  self-effacement." 

I  grew  more  confident. 

"  How  would  you  dress  the  part?  "  I  asked. 

"  Black,"  said  Mrs.  Hardy. 

"  Let's  see  what  you've  got,"  said  Rebecca. 

So  we  went  through  my  trunks  which  had  just 
come. 

"  How  in  the  world,"  groaned  Mrs.  Hardy,  en- 
throned on  a  hat  trunk  amid  the  bewildering  up- 
heaval of  my  trousseau,  "  how  in  the  world  you  could 
turn  your  back  on  this  and  start  to  hunting  down 
want  ad's,  passes  me !  " 

.We  finally  settled  on  a  little  dark  blue  suit  which 
48 


49 

J  had  thought  of  giving  to  Katy,  but  Aunt  Emmeline 
had  said,  "  There  are  times  when  every  lady  needs 
to  look  shabby ;  places,  where  to  avoid  inconvenience, 
she  wishes  her  station  to  go  unrecognized." 

Odd  that  after  all  I  should  come  to  wear  this  dress 
in  order  that  my  station  might  be  fully  understood! 
Rebecca  found  a  hat  that  went  with  it,  and  care- 
fully removed  the  feather. 

"  It's  a  shame !  "  cried  Mrs.  Hardy,  banging  down 
the  lid  of  the  hat-trunk.  "  You're  dressing  Zoe  like 
a  beggar  girl !  " 

"  If  I  come  dressed  as  a  beggar  girl,"  I  laughed, 
"  I  am  but  as  my  fortunes  are !  " 

"  But  you  are  still  the  Lady  Clare ! "  cried  Re- 
becca, pulling  the  little  hat  down  over  my  ears  and 
kissing  me  on  the  chin. 

"  Oh,  Zoe,  what  a  darling  companion  you'll  make !  " 

"Well,  the  first  place  I'd  apply  for  a  job,"  said 
Mrs.  Hardy,  "  would  be  at  my  husband's  hotel, 
whichever  that  is." 

"  Good-by ! "  I  gayly  waved,  and  set  forth. 

It  was  a  soggy  day,  all  full  of  murky  drizzle,  and 
there  was  a  little  crumply  chill  sitting  in  the  pit  of 
my  stomach.  I  wish  I  might  have  chosen  a  bright 
day  to  start  to  the  end  of  the  world. 

The  house  when  I  reached  it  had  a  somber,  old-rich 
look.  Inside,  the  furnishings  struck  the  same  key. 
Hanging  and  upholstery  appeared  aged  but  unworn, 
as  if  Old  Father  Time,  alone,  had  lounged  upon  the 


50  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

sofas  and  leaned  his  staff  against  the  tapestried  wall. 

Two  girls  had  come  up  the  steps  behind  me,  and 
I  found  three  more  in  the  hall.  A  pompous  and  at- 
tenuated butler  admitted  us.  He  was  so  old  he 
seemed  to  creak  as  he  walked.  When  he  bade  us 
croakingly  to  enter,  I  felt  as  if  he  were  offering  to 
row  us  across  the  Styx. 

A  girl  came  suddenly  out  from  a  door  at  the  right 
and  Charon,  beckoning,  held  the  portiere  apart  for 
me.  The  crumply  chill  in  my  stomach  did  six  revo- 
lutions and  I  arose. 

In  the  old,  old  drawing-room  sat  a  gray-haired 
woman.  She  was  thinner,  even,  than  the  butler,  and 
resembled  a  carven  figure  in  her  great  mediaeval  chair, 
with  her  dense  black  draperies  fallen  in  rigid  lines. 
Her  face  was  white  as  a  mushroom  and  shriveled  into 
a  thousand  wrinkles.  A  crutch  leaned  beside  her 
like  a  bishop's  staff.  There  was  a  chair  facing  her 
and  she  motioned  me  into  it. .  . 

"  Cl-cl-cl !  "  she  exclaimed  when  I  had  sat  down. 

It  sounded  like  the  rasping  of  a  gate.  Seizing  her 
crutch,  she  began  rapidly  to  tap  the  floor. 

"  You  advertised  — "  I  began. 

"  Voice  very  good,"  she  rasped.  "  Are  you 
quiet?" 

I  did  my  best  to  look  so. 

"  Are  you  quiet?  "  she  squeaked. 

"  I  try  to  be,"  I  answered.     Heaven  knew  what  I 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  51 

should  say  when  she  asked  me  if  I  was  refined !  But 
she  didn't. 

"  I  don't  like  your  dimples,"  she  remarked.  "  I 
don't  like  'em  at  all ! "  And  she  tapped  severely 
with  her  crutch,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Take  'em  off !  " 

And,  truly,  I  would  have  if  I  could ! 

"  Married  ?  "  she  asked. 

I  was  utterly  unprepared  for  this.  I  felt  the  red 
begin  at  my  throat  and  creep  up  —  up  — 

The  crutch  tapped  sharply. 

"What?     What?     What ?"  she  creaked. 

«  Yes,"  I  said. 

"  Very  well.  One  more  question.  Do  you  flirt  ?  " 
She  leaned  forward,  peering  at  me  closely. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  I  answered,  really  indignant. 

"  We  shall  see.     Can  you  read  ?  " 

I  was  by  no  means  certain,  but  with  the  question 
she  reached  into  the  depths  of  her  chair  and  ex- 
tracted a  gray-black,  dingy  book,  which  she  gave  to 
me.  It  was  The  History  of  the  Dead  Sea  by  one 
Doome,  and  the  pages  were  gray  with  age. 

"  Begin !  "  she  said.     "  Page  3." 

Carefully,  I  proceeded  to  obey.  "  Encrusted  with 
slime  and  salt,  bleak  and  desolate  beneath  a  glaring 
sky—" 

"  Not  there !  "  she  interrupted.  "  Further  down 
the  page." 

I  skipped  two  paragraphs. 


52  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

~(t  Stagnant  fumes  ascend  from  the  marshes  along 
the  shore.  Natives  of  alien  climes  may  not  in- 
hale this  breath  and  live.  Eke  the  inhabitants  of 
Jericho  grow  pale  with  that  vapor.  Wantons  doth 
it  make  of  women  and  brutes  of  men." 

The  crutch  began  to  tap.  There  was  a  fury  of 
rebuke  in  the  sound.  I  looked  up.  Between  the 
portieres  stood  a  man  —  a  young  man.  He  had 
genial,  blue  eyes  and  ruddy  hair.  He  was  fresh  of 
cheek,  clean  shaven  and  smiling.  Never  had  I  beheld 
anything  that  appeared,  in  contrast,  so  new  and 
shining  as  that  young  man.  He  was  like  a  rose  fal- 
len in  a  ruin. 

The  crutch  was  still  tapping. 

"  Shall  I  —  shall  I  continue  ?  "  I  asked,  scram- 
bling to  find  my  place. 

"  Not  at  all ! "  cried  the  lady.  "  You  will  not  do 
—  not  at  all ! "  And  she  looked  from  me  to  the 
young  man.  "  I  said  we  should  see  —  and  we  have 
seen.  And  yet  you  say  you  are  married ! " 

I  was  completely  bewildered.  Were  visitors  not 
allowed  to  look  at  the  young  man? 

"  Good  morning,"  I  said. 

She  creaked  an  obscure  and  indignant  answer. 
The  young  man  held  the  portiere  aside  and  I  with- 
drew. 

To  my  dismay  I  found  him  in  the  hall  beside  me 
and  he  opened  the  front  door  just  as  Charon  ad- 
vanced. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW;  WIFE  53 

Then  he  followed  me  to  the  step  and,  taking  my 
umbrella,  raised  it.  His  coolness  was  amazing. 

"  I  hope  you  didn't  mind — "  he  began,  just  as  if 
we'd  known  each  other  a  year.  "  I  hope  you  didn't 
mind  Granny?  " 

I  wanted  to  tell  him  that  it  was  not  Granny,  but 
he,  himself,  who  had  caused  my  discomfiture.  Really, 
I  was  wading  very  nicely  through  the  slime  and  the 
salt  of  the  Dead  Sea.  What  right  had  he  to  come 
riding,  like  a  year-after-next  model,  over  our  nice 
little  Sodom  and  Gomorrah?  But  I  merely  smiled 
at  him,  just  as  if  I'd  known  him  a  year,  and  said, 
with  what  I  hoped  was  bravado, 

"  Oh,  no  !     I'm  used  to  such  things." 

"  Are  you  though  ?  "  he  asked,  letting  the  rain 
trickle  over  my  featherless  little  hat.  "  I  shouldn't 
have  guessed  it.  But  Granny  must  be  worse  than 
the  rest,  isn't  she  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.     They're  all  about  alike." 

"  I  j  oily  well  wish  she'd  take  you  on,"  he  remarked. 
"  The  frumps  she  gets !  The  last  one  —  I  simply 
couldn't  stand  looking  at  her  morning,  noon,  and 
night  —  so  I  kissed  her.  Granny  saw  me,  of  course. 
She  thought  I  didn't  know  she  was  there.  I  was 
sorry  for  the  poor  girl." 

"  Because  you  kissed  her?  " 

"  Yes.  And  because  Granny,  thinking  her  lone 
hopeful  was  becoming  enamored  of  the  lady  compan- 
ion, fired  her.  It  had  to  be,  however.  So  to-day 


54  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

I  thought  I'd  look  in  on  the  samples,  and  if  any  of 
'em  were  too  dreadful —  Really,  you  know  it  gets 
rummy  mewed  up  here  with  Granny  and  her  taste  in 
females." 

"  So  that's  why  you  stared  me  out  of  counte- 
nance," I  observed.  "  To  keep  her  from  — " 

"  On  my  life,"  he  answered,  "  I  hadn't  meant  to 
stare  like  that  unless  you  were  a  —  fright.  But 
when  I  saw  you,  I  —  I  stared  without  knowing  it.  I 
did,  honest.  But  this  is  a  morgue.  Thank  my 
stars,  I  leave  in  a  month.  Here !  I'm  going  to  take 
you  home.  You  won't  mind?  " 

He  saw  I  didn't,  and  in  another  minute  he  had  his 
little  runabout,  with  all  the  curtains  down,  chough- 
ing  at  the  steps  and  was  helping  me  into  it  with  the 
rain  pelting  us  like  hail.  Just  as  we  started  off  he 
said,  "  My  name's  Rufus  Honeywell,"  and  waited. 

"  It's  a  nice  name,"  I  answered. 

He  flashed  a  smile  at  me. 

"  On  the  square,"  he  said,  "  you  just  told  Granny 
that,  didn't  you  —  about  being  married  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  It  is  true."  And  I  was  vaguely 
aware  that  I  ought  to  jump  out  of  the  runabout. 

"Is  he —  Might  I  ask,  is  he  an  invalid?  Be- 
cause if  he  is  — " 

"  He  is  not." 

"  Well,  if  he  had  been  —  I'm  a  doctor." 

I  said  nothing. 

"  Is  he  here  —  in  town  ?  "  he  asked. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  55 

I  said  I  didn't  know.  I  rather  fancied,  however, 
he  was  in  mid-ocean. 

"  Hmmm  — "  said  Doctor  Honeywell,  and  that  was 
all  until  he  helped  me  out  at  Mrs.  Hardy's  front 
door. 

Anyway,  it  was  better  than  coming  home  in  the 
subway  all  alone.  I  felt  dreadfully  wabbly  after  my 
seance  with  the  gray  woman  in  the  bishop's  chair. 

Is  she  so  formidable  to  all  who  answer  her  ad- 
vertisement ? 

Ah,  Jeremiah,  I  have  met  my  turkey  cock. 

But  there  is  no  back  fence  to  receive  me. 

February  16th 

A  strange  thing  has  happened. 

"  Rebecca,"  said  Mrs.  Hardy,  "  there  is  a  man 
spotting  this  house." 

"  Maybe  he  wants  to  buy  it,"  said  Rebecca. 

I  went  to  the  window  —  I  had  been  out  all  day, 
answering  advertisements  —  and  I  saw  that  what  she 
said  was  true.  A  man  in  a  gray  overcoat  was  walk- 
ing along  the  opposite  sidewalk,  not  as  if  with  a  view 
to  purchasing  anything,  but  quite  casually,  smoking 
a  cigar. 

"  I'd  think  he  was  just  taking  a  stroll,"  said  Mrs. 
Hardy,  "  but  that  he  comes  back  so  often." 

"  There  are  a  good  many  houses,"  Rebecca  said ; 
"  it  may  not  be  ours." 

But  I  know  it's  this  house.     I  know  it. 


56  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

I  was  never  so  tired.  I  feel  all  full  of  bruises.  I 
have  applied  for  positions  as  governess,  companion, 
amanuensis,  and  once  for  a  place  as  sewing  girl,  for  I 
learned  to  mend  and  embroider  at  the  convent.  But 
nobody  took  me. 

It  has  been  raining  hard  all  day.  I  was  wet  to 
the  knees  when  I  came  home. 

February  17th 

I  celebrated  by  going  down  to  breakfast  for  the 
first  time.  Mrs.  Hardy  was  in  the  kitchen  and  lost 
the  thrilling  opportunity  of  introducing  me.  As  it 
was,  the  boarders  accepted  me  merely  as  the  young 
lady  who  has  Mr.  Simms'  room.  They  passed  me 
things  and  made  pleasant  remarks  about  the  awful 
weather,  but  no  one  appeared  to  recognize  me  as  the 
original  of  those  heart-broken  pictures.  It  was  a 
supreme  relief.  I  think  I  had  expected  them  to  arise, 
on  my  entrance,  waving  their  napkins  and  shouting, 
"  Hail,  Lost  Bride  of  Netherby ! "  or  something  of 
that  sort. 

Night 

The  gray-coated  man  was  on  the  subway  this 
morning.  To-night  he  boarded  the  elevated  just  be- 
hind me.  He  seemed  not  to  see  me  at  all.  He  looks 
like  a  gentleman.  Surely,  I  only  imagine  he  is  fol- 
lowing me. 


February  IStTi 

As  I  came  out  of  my  room  this  morning,  wearing 
the  dingy  little  suit  that  had  been  dried  and  brushed, 
I  met  Rebecca.  Her  face  was  flushed,  and  she 
caught  me  by  both  shoulders. 

"  He's  downstairs !  "  she  fairly  cried  in  a  whisper. 

I  stopped,  petrified. 

"  He?  " 

"  Your  husband !     Mr.  Holt !  " 

I  gripped  the  balustrade.  So  he  felt  he  must  stay 
and  track  me  down !  He  felt  it  his  duty  to  shoulder 
me,  whether  I  was  willing  or  not.  If  he  had  come 
last  night  when  I  was  so  tired  —  when  the  rain  was 
falling —  Who  knows?  I  might  have  gone  with 
him,  pickaback,  or  any  other  way!  A  slinky  skirt 
and  slushy  shoes  are  bad  for  resolutions.  But  I  was 
rested  now,  and  dry,  though  dingy.  Besides,  it  was 
a  new  day  and  the  sun  was  shining! 

"  Go  down  and  see  him,  anyhow,"  pleaded  Re- 
becca, as  if  I  had  said  these  things  aloud. 

"  Certainly  I'll  see  him,"  I  answered.  "  What  else 
is  there  to  do?  "  And  I  turned  back  into  my  room, 
dug  up  the  casket  of  pearls,  and  went  down. 

He  stood  by  the  piano  which  is  all  snaggle-toothed, 
67 


58 

and  he  was  slowly  drawing  off  his  gloves.  He  seemed 
worried,  for  he  frowned,  looking  down  at  the  rug. 

When  I  came  in  he  wheeled  quickly,  and  the  trou- 
bled look  passed  from  astonishment  into  something 
stern  and  almost  indignant.  I  thought  for  a  minute 
he  was  going  to  spank  me,  but  he  came  forward  on 
the  instant  and  held  out  his  hand.  I  think  the  dress 
had  merely  surprised  him.  But  then  I  can't  go  trail- 
ing about  in  those  gorgeous  trousseau  things  asking 
for  a  place  as  governess!  I  sat  down  on  the  big 
bumpy  sofa  and  he  took  the  shaggy  chair  just  oppo- 
site. The  stern  look  had  given  place  to  a  puzzled, 
uncertain  expression,  and  he  looked  at  roe  without 
speaking. 

"  I  thought  you  were  on  your  honeymoon,"  I  re- 
marked, for  a  beginning  had  to  be  made.  I  had  put 
the  pearls  behind  me,  for  I  couldn't  speak  of  those 
just  yet. 

He  smiled  —  a  sudden,  twinkling  smile. 

"  Don't  you  know,"  he  answered,  "  that  it  takes 
two  to  make  a  honeymoon?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said.     "  The  right  two." 

He  sobered  a  little  at  this,  and  then  he  said,  "  I 
have  been  looking  for  a  letter  from  you  —  in  accord- 
ance with  your  promise.  The  night  you  left  your 
aunt's,  I  knew.  And  I  knew  also  that  you  were  not 
to  return." 

"  I  thought  you  left  the  house  at  once  —  after  our 
interview,"  I  said. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  59 

"  I  did  not  leave  at  once,  no.  But  I  left  before 
you.  Therefore  I  did  not  know  where  you  had  gone. 
I  returned  later,  however,  and  since  your  aunt  had 
left  town  — " 

"  So  Aunt  Emmeline's  away  ?  " 

"  Only  for  a  little  rest,  I  understand.  Since  she 
was  away,  I  talked  with  one  of  the  maids,  and  got 
your  address.  However,  I  continued  to  wait  for  the 
letter.  I  think  you  owe  me  an  explanation,  a  full 
and  frank  explanation  of  why  you  refuse  to  live  with 
me.  That's  what  I  am  here  for." 

During  the  silence  that  followed  he  looked  at  me 
steadily. 

"  I  can't  give  it  to  you,"  I  said  at  last. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  he  answered,  "  that  you  have  no 
reason  at  all,  or  none  that  you  can  formulate?  If 
it  be  that  you  are  merely  uncertain  — " 

"  I  have  a  reason,"  I  said. 

"  A  definite  reason  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  have  created  all  this  wreck 
without  a  definite  reason?  " 

"  I  can't  tell.  It's  all  so  —  extraordinary.  Tell 
me  this.  Did  you  go  through  that  service  will- 
ingly?" 

"  Oh,  yes !     It  was  only  —  afterward  — " 

"  Ah ! "  There  followed  a  silence  in  which  I 
seemed  to  hear  his  thoughts  crowding  against  each 
other.  Finally  he  spoke  again.  "  Was  it  some- 
thing you  heard  ?  " 


60 

How  had  he  come  so  close  to  it?     I  looked  away. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said,  "  there  are  many  things 
we  hear  that  are  not  true." 

"  I  know  that  this  is  true,"  I  answered. 

"  Things  are  not  necessarily  true,"  he  gave  back, 
"  because  they  happen  to  be  a  literal  account  of  sur- 
face events.  Unless  we  know  motives  and  under- 
lying impulses,  we  have  no  right  to  judge  actions 
themselves.  If  I  were  certain  —  If  you  would  en- 
lighten me  further,  I  could,  perhaps,  explain  — " 

"  You  could  probably  repeat  it  in  a  more  delicate 
manner  than  it  came  to  me  ...  that  is,  you  could 
glose  it  over.  But  the  facts  would  remain  the  same." 

"Facts?"  he  repeated.  "It  is  facts  I  am  talk- 
ing about.  Give  them  to  me." 

"  There  is  one  fact  I  must  give  you,"  I  answered. 
"  One  thing,  in  justice  to  myself,  that  you  should 
know.  I  did  not  love  you  .  .  .  even  before  I  — 
heard.  And  when  I  heard,  I  knew  with  that  between 
us,  I  never  could." 

His  face  had  gone  quite  white.  In  that  instant 
he  had  seen  on  how  false  a  foundation  our  marriage 
had  been  built.  In  that  instant  I  knew  that  in  the 
trap  Aunt  Emmeline  had  set,  this  was  the  bait  that 
had  lured  him  in.  Poor  young  thing!  he  had 
thought.  She  loved  him !  And  it  was  all  his  fault, 
for  being  so  charming,  so  superb,  so  frequent  at  the 
house !  He  should  really  have  been  more  careful  — 
but  now  that  the  unconscious  arrow  had  proven  so 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  61 

deadly,  was  he  the  one  to  let  an  enamored  lady  pine? 
Never !  Bring  hither  a  parson !  To  the  kirk !  He 
was  game. 

Looking  at  him  now,  I  knew  more  than  ever  that 
he  was  just  the  man  to  do  the  square  thing,  the  right 
thing  as  he  saw  it,  to  play  fair.  But  now  —  he  saw ! 

Yet  when  he  answered,  his  voice  was  very  quiet, 
very  kind. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.  "  And  now  the  question  is, 
what  shall  we  do  ?  What  is  your  desire  ?  " 

"  A  divorce,"  I  answered,  "  would  be  the  only  log- 
ical thing." 

"  Divorces,"  he  said,  "  are  not  easily  acquired  in 
New  York.  You  wouldn't  care,  I  suppose,  to  go  out 
to  Nevada?  " 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  I  shouldn't  care  to.  But  if  it  is 
necessary  — " 

"  If  you  feel  it  is  necessary,  it  shall  be  arranged," 
he  said.  "  And  I  want  you  to  know,  since  I  am  in- 
formed your  aunt  makes  no  provision  for  you,  I  will 
see  that — " 

"  Oh,  please ! "  I  protested,  feeling  my  face  burn. 

"  It  is  the  law." 

"  I  am  able  to  take  care  of  myself,"  I  said. 

Why  should  marriage  hang  a  woman  about  a 
man's  neck  as  the  albatross  was  hung  about  the  An- 
cient Mariner's?  Does  a  man  commit  a  crime  when 
he  marries  that  he  should  thereby  be  sentenced  to 
penal  servitude  for  life? 


62  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

He  drew  the  shaggy  chair  close  to  the  sofa. 

"  Child,"  he  said,  "  though  you  don't  love  me, 
don't  you  think  that,  so  long  as  we  are  married,  we 
might  go  on?  Come  with  me.  Let  me  teach  you  the 
actual  untruth  of  what  you  heard,  and  thereby  re- 
move the  barrier  you  have  reared  between  your  heart 
and  me.  God  knows  I  shall  never  let  you  suffer  with 
regret." 

He  had  shot  the  albatross  and  he  would  let  it  hang 
about  his  neck!  But  the  fact  remains,  that  if  the 
albatross  had  been  alive,  it  would  have  been  just  as 
uncomfortable  as  the  Mariner. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  Do  you  really  desire,"  he  asked,  "  to  be  a 
widow?  " 

"  A  grass  widow,"  I  corrected.  "  I  certainly  don't 
desire  that  you  should  die.  I  wonder  why  they  call 
them  grass  widows  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "  I  never  thought  about 
it.  But  I  have  still  a  proposition  to  make  to  you. 
Suppose  you  go  your  own  little  way,  married  still. 
Not  that  I  want  to  keep  you  against  your  will,  but 
the  talk  and  the  notoriety,  and  the  leers  of  men.  .  .  . 
You  don't  understand,  and  God  grant  you  never  will ! 
Suppose,  since  you  cannot  bear  to  live  with  me,  that 
you  let  me  keep  still  the  right  to  protect  you,  and 
look  after  you,  even  from  afar  off.  And  if  some  day 
you  feel  you  can  — " 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  63 

"How  about  you?"  I  interrupted.  "You  may 
want  to  marry  —  to  have  a  real  wife  and  a  home." 

"  When  I  do,"  he  said,  "  I'll  let  you  know.  That 
will  be  time  enough  for  a  divorce." 

"  Will  you  really  and  truly  let  me  know?  " 

"  I  promise.  And  you  —  If  ever  you  meet 
someone  — "  He  reached  down,  picked  up  my  hand, 
and  looked  into  the  palm. 

"  I  see  one  love  affair,  already,"  he  said. 

"  That  must  have  been  Tubby,"  I  answered. 

"Tubby?" 

"  The  boy  who  lived  next  door  when  I  was  little. 
And,  do  you  know,  if  ever  I  do  meet  someone,  as  you 
say,  I  feel  it  will  be  Tubby." 

"  Tell  me  about  this  Tubby,"  he  said,  laying  down 
my  hand. 

So  I  told  him  about  those  glad,  sweet,  golden  days 
away  down  South.  I  led  him  through  the  little  flow- 
ered gate  and  under  the  great  magnolias  where  Tubby 
sat  on  the  rose-crowned  wall.  I  showed  him  my 
father  reading  a  thumbed  Catullus  beneath  the  trees, 
and  my  mother  looking  out  into  the  garden.  At 
last  he  spoke. 

"  You  think  it  will  be  Tubby,  because  you  knew 
him  when  you  were  happiest.  If  you  will  come  with 
me,  might  we  not  learn  to  make  a  garden  of  our 
own?" 

I  wonder  if  he  guessed  how  near  I  came  to  follow- 
ing at  those  words? 


64  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

Again  I  shook  my  head. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.     "  Some  day  —  perhaps." 

And  between  us,  we  entered  into  our  contract.  I 
was  to  be  free.  Free,  indeed,  to  go  where  I  would 
and  when.  Only,  I  was  to  consult  with  him  when  I 
needed  a  friend.  He  should  be  free,  also.  Free,  it 
developed,  to  protect  me  from  afar,  to  write  to  me, 
and,  he  endeavored  to  incorporate,  to  give  me  what 
I  required.  This  last  clause,  however,  I  refused  to 
admit.  If  I  accepted  from  anyone,  I  said,  it  should 
be  from  him.  And  he  was  forced  to  let  it  go  at  that. 

Then  I  gave  him  the  casket  of  pearls,  and  he 
looked  at  them  as  if  he  hardly  understood. 

"  I  am  afraid  to  keep  them,"  I  explained,  and 
pushed  them  into  his  hands.  Then,  before  he  could 
say  a  word,  Mrs.  Hardy  came  in.  She  stayed  until 
he  left.  Rebecca  scolded  her  afterward,  but  I  was 
thankful  for  the  interruption.  We  were  talked  out. 

He  is  undoubtedly  very  game.  If  he  drew  a  white 
elephant  in  a  lottery,  he'd  get  it  a  gold  cage  and 
feed  it  on  mammoth  chocolates. 

I  am  tired  to-night.  I  have  walked  all  day. 
Why  is  someone  always  before  me,  go  I  never  so 
early  ? 

February  19th 

There  is  no  word  from  Aunt  Emmeline.  Can  I 
blame  her?  I  would  ask  her  forgiveness,  but  to  ask 
forgiveness  means  that  one  is  sorry.  And  if  one  is 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  65 

sorry,  one  is  willing  to  repair.     The  facts  remain 
the  same. 

February  20th 

Rufus  Honeywell  called  to-day. 

"  Granny  drew  a  prize  this  time,"  he  remarked,  as 
he  sat  on  the  bumpy  sofa.  "  A  regular  Dead  Sea 
lemon." 

"  Why  don't  you  kiss  her?  "  I  inquired. 
He  shook  his  head. 

"  This  one's  got  a  husband,"  he  answered.  Then 
significantly,  "  A  real  husband." 

"  Did  you  come  to  inquire  about  rooms  ?  "  I  asked. 
"  Because  if  you  did  — " 

"  No,  I  came  to  inquire  about  you.  You  didn't 
give  me  your  name,  stingy, —  so  I  didn't  know  who 
to  ask  for.  Lucky  you  met  me  at  the  door." 

"  Yes.  I  was  just  starting  out  to  look  for  work. 
I'm  still  at  it.  So,  if  you've  any  real  business  to  dis- 
patch, please  let  us  have  it." 

Dr.  Honeywell  leaned  forward.  The  red  of  his 
cheeks  had  spread  all  over  his  face.  He  looked  like 
a  ripe  pomegranate. 

"  This  is  my  business,  Miss  What-ever-your-name- 
is.  I'm  starting  out  West  and  I  want  you  to  go 
with  me." 

I  looked  at  him,  astounded. 

"  As  my  wife,  of  course,"  he  supplemented. 

"I  understand,  certainly.     But  I'm  married." 


66  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  Then  get  a  divorce  —  it's  easy  out  there.  Hon- 
est, I  couldn't  believe  you  were  married!  But  any 
fool  can  see  he  cares  nothing  about  you.  I'd  die  for 
you.  Surest  thing  you  know.  I  never  knew  a  girl 
could  bowl  me  over  like  this.  Come,  now.  What  do 
you  say?  " 

"  I  say  it's  ridiculous.  The  West  doesn't  appeal 
to  me  and  neither  do  you." 

"  Oh,  well ! "  he  rose.  "  Think  about  it  a  little, 
will  you  ?  I  know  you  don't  like  this  running  around 
loose." 

He  took  his  hat.  "  You  say  you're  starting  out? 
My  car's  out  there.  Sha'n't  I  drive  you?  " 

I  declined  this  proposal  also,  and  he  received  it 
with  the  same  good  grace,  departing  at  once. 

I'm  afraid  I  mustn't  tell  people  I've  a  husband. 
It  places  him  in  too  unjust  a  light. 

But  it's  nice  to  have  a  proposal  that  I  don't  owe 
to  the  maneuvers  of  Aunt  Emmeline. 


VII 


February 

To-day  on  Second  Avenue  I  had  an  adventure. 
By  this  time  I  am  used  to  my  gray-coated  man 
cropping  up  at  all  sorts  of  unexpected  corners,  but 
this  evening  another  loomed  in  my  path.  And  this 
one,  unlike  him  of  the  gray  coat,  accosted  me.  I 
have  often  had  them  stare  and  even  smile,  but  my 
apparent  blindness  usually  cooled  their  interest. 
However,  this  man,  who  was  a  very  rotund  individual 
with  a  polychromatic  vest  and  a  high  hat,  would  not 
permit  me  to  be  blind.  He  thrust  the  greater  part 
of  his  charms  directly  under  my  averted  gaze,  and, 
holding  out  his  hat  as  if  to  catch  any  tears  I  might 
be  moved  to  shed,  inquired,  "  May  I  walluk  weeth 
you,  my  pretty  one?  "  Since  I  couldn't  be  blind,  I 
elected  to  be  deaf,  and  hurried  on,  he  hopping  at  my 
side,  looking  for  all  the  world  like  the  frog  who  would 
a-wooing  go.  Tired  as  I  was,  I  had  to  smile.  Per- 
haps it  was  because  I  was  so  tired  that  I  couldn't 
refrain. 

"  Aha  !  The  deemples  !  "  he  chuckled.  "  Permeet1 
me,  Mees  !  "  And  he  offered  me  his  arm.  I  came 
near  saying  his  front  leg,  for  the  gesture  was 

67 


68  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

purely  Patrachian.  I  quickened  step  breathlessly, 
for  it  was  growing  dusk. 

"  Ha,  my  pretty  one,"  he  panted  as  he  jumped 
along.  "  We  have  revealed  our  deemples,  and  now 
we  must  betray  how  dark  our  eyes  can  flash!  But 
not  so  fast,  my  pretty  one !  Not  so  fast !  " 

My  sense  of  amusement  left  me,  my  anger  too. 
I  was  only  very  afraid. 

Suddenly  he  caught  my  arm,  and,  though  I  strug- 
gled mightily,  I  could  not  free  myself.  He  clung 
hard,  and,  putting  his  face  close  to  mine,  began  to 
hiss  incoherently. 

I  looked  wildly  about.  Many  people  were  about 
us,  yet  in  the  lamp-lit,  jostling  throng  no  one  seemed 
to  see.  Suddenly  in  the  crowd  a  man  halted. 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  he  asked  gruffly,  looking 
from  the  Frog  to  me. 

The  Frog  spoke,  drowning  my  appeal.  "  Eet  ees 
my  wife,  sir.  She  run  the  street.  She  will  not  stay 
home." 

The  man  shrugged  and  passed  on.  I  turned  to 
cry  after  him.  Then  all  at  once,  as  if  the  ground 
had  opened  before  us,  the  Gray  Coat  stood  in  the 
way.  With  a  swift  movement  of  his  arm  he  thrust 
my  pursuer  from  me,  gripping  his  shoulder  as  mine 
had  been  gripped.  Then  he  turned  back  the  lapel  of 
his  coat,  and  the  Frog  subsided  as  if  he  had  been 
shot.  Mumbling  a  bit,  he  was  released,  and  waddled 
off  down  the  avenue.  Gray-Coat  signaled  a  cab.  I 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  69 

was  trembling  all  over  and  climbed  in,  grateful  for 
the  soft  cushions.  Looking  back,  I  saw  my  rescuer 
standing  at  the  curb,  lighting  a  cigar. 

All  the.  way  home  I  worried  about  the  price  of  the 
cab,  for  I  had  been  walking  to  save  car-fare.  But 
when  at  the  door  I  got  out  my  purse,  the  cab-man 
touched  his  hat  and  said,  "  It  is  paid." 

I  should  think  it  was  all  a  dream,  except  that  my 
arm  is  bruised  where  the  Frog  seized  me. 

Who  is  my  Gray-Coat? 

And  who  am  I,  that  he  should  watch  over  me? 

February  22nd 

To-day  a  letter  came  from  Mr.  Holt  —  a  single 
line. 

"  Was  it  necessary  to  give  the  ring  back  too?  " 

No  name.     Just  that. 

To  which  I  answered,  "  Not  necessary,  but  best. 
For  your  sake  as  well  as  mine,  I  prefer  to  go  as  if  un- 
married. Our  contract  permits  that,  does  it  not?  " 

And  then  I  added,  by  way  of  a  postscript, 

"  I  looked  up  '  grass  widow  '  in  the  dictionary. 
It  means  a  straw  widow  —  that  is  a  sham  widow.  In 
other  words,  no  widow  at  all.  But  there's  nothing 
in  a  name.  And  a  straw  widow  is  no  worse  than  a 
straw  wife." 

And  I  signed  my  name  —  my  own  name. 

Nothing  again  to-night.     Only  I've  worn  out  my 


70  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

shoes.  Oh,  I  do  pray  that  I  may  not  grow  so  tired 
that  some  night  I  go  to  him  even  against  my  will! 
Then,  indeed,  would  I  be  left  on  his  door-step. 

February  23rd 

Good  news,  Jeremiah!  Oh,  Jeremiah,  clap  your 
hands,  and  smile  with  your  eyes !  I've  got  a  job ! 

I  went  to  see  the  lady  away  last  week,  but  she  gave 
me  no  encouragement.  She  merely  took  my  address 
and  said  if  she  decided  later  that  I'd  do,  she'd  tele- 
phone. They  always  say  that,  but  they  never  tele- 
phone. 

When  she  asked  my  name,  I  told  her  Darnelle.  It 
was  my  mother's  name,  and  mine,  too,  for  that  mat- 
ter—  my  middle  name.  Rebecca  and  I  had  agreed 
it  would  be  best  not  to  disclose  my  identity  as  the 
runaway  bride  —  at  first.  But  I  kept  the  "  Zoe," 
for  I  don't  believe  I  could  answer  to  any  other  given 
name. 

So,  this  morning,  just  as  I  was  starting  on  my 
rounds,  the  postman  handed  me  a  letter  addressed  to 
Miss  Zoe  Darnelle.  Miss!  And  of  her  own  accord. 
I'm  glad  of  that. 

Dear  Jeremiah,  how  happy  I  am !  I'm  a  nursery 
governess.  It  seems  a  lofty  profession,  indeed,  be- 
side some  I've  tried  to  enter. 

There  are  two  children  where  I'm  going,  and  isn't 
it  wonderful  that  the  mother  wants  for  them  just 
what  I  can  give?  Sewing  and  music  for  the  little 


WITH  A  SWIFT  MOVEMENT  OF 
THE  ARM  HE  THRUST  MY 
PURSUER  FROM  ME. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  71 

girl,  French  for  both,  and,  of  course,  reading  and 
writing  and  figuring.  I  hope  they  don't  know  the 
multiplication  table  beyond  the  sixes.  I  don't. 

And  I'm  to  have  forty  dollars  a  month.  Oh, 
Jeremiah,  it's  affluence! 

I'm  taking  only  the  little  steamer  trunk  with  my 
simplest  clothes.  And  I've  bought  a  new  suit,  a 
plain  black  one,  and  a  pair  of  stubby  shoes.  I  shall 
pin  three  ten-dollar  bills  to  my  pillow  before  I  go. 
I  don't  dare  offer  them  to  Mrs.  Hardy. 

And  now,  Jeremiah,  I  must  pack  you. 

February  25th 

I  have  been  talking  ever  since  I  came  with  Mrs. 
Vervaine.  She  is  blond  and  spare,  with  protruding 
light  blue  eyes  and  a  high  forehead.  There  is  a  vein 
down  the  bridge  of  her  nose  that  rises  and  darkens 
when  she  is  interested.  Her  lips  are  thin  and  look 
as  if  they  had  never  been  kissed. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  been  to  a  convent,"  she  said 
to  me.  "  It  was  that  which  finally  induced  me  to 
send  for  you,  that  and,  of  course,  this  Mrs.  Hardy's 
letter  relative  to  your  birth  and  breeding." 

Rebecca  and  I  had  composed  the  letter.  I 
dropped  my  eyes,  blushing  as  I  deserved  to. 

"  Miss  Trippett's  I  know  very  little,  but  Chenevix 
is  an  ideal  institution.  It  turns  out  young  ladies. 
It  is  the  place  I  shall  send  Elise." 

Elise  is  nine.     She  is  gold  haired  with  her  father's 


72  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

gray  eyes,  and  a  pert  little  chin  that  has  a  way  of 
lifting  when  she  receives  unsolicited  advice. 

Dicky  is  my  love.  He,  too,  has  the  gray  eyes — : 
what  wise  children  they  were  when  it  came  to  choos- 
ing eyes !  —  and  round,  red  cheeks  and  the  bonniest 
strut  of  a  walk.  There  is  an  older  son,  Harold, 
who  has  a  tutor.  Mr.  Vervaine  I  have  scarcely  seen. 
He  is  a  good-looking  man,  younger,  it  would  appear 
than  his  wife,  and  passionately,  though  silently,  de- 
voted to  the  children.  To-day  we  walked  by  the 
river,  Dicky,  Elise  and  I.  I  thought  of  the  days 
when  I  paced  the  park  with  Aunt  Emmeline's  French 
maid.  I  let  the  children  run! 

Night 

A  note  from  Mr.  Holt,  forwarded  in  an  envelope 
addressed  by  Rebecca. 

"  Dear  Lady: 

"  Our  contract  permits  anything.  It  is  so  elastic, 
that,  pull  as  you  will,  you  cannot  break  it !  Only 
why  give  the  wedding  ring  to  me?  Must  I  wear  it? 

"  And  on  one  point  we  disagree.  I  believe  any 
man  would  choose  that  the  person  he  married  should 
be  his  wife  rather  than  his  widow.  Regarding  this, 
however,  I  am  willing  to  be  convinced.  But  I  should 
say  that  while  there's  wife  —  there's  hope. 

"  Even  a  drowning  man  may  have  a  preference  in 
straws,  you  see !  " 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  73 

This  communication  is  too  deep.  I  cannot 
fathom  it.  Therefore,  I  shall  let  it  fall  flat. 

February  26th 

The  children  are  wild  to-day. 

Uncle  Don  is  coming  from  California. 

Fifine,  Mrs.  Vervaine's  maid,  explains  that  "  Un- 
cle Don  "  is  Mr.  Vervaine's  brother,  a  bachelor  with 
a  "  sad  past." 

To-day  in  the  library  I  ran  across  a  great  book 
on  State  Laws.  I  spent  two  hours  in  its  company. 

What  crude  things  the  divorce  statutes  are! 

They  seem  to  brutalize  marriage. 

How  irrelevant  to  the  real  issues  of  life  are  the 
grounds  on  which  a  woman  may  be  freed! 

February  28th 

Rebecca  has  telephoned.  What  must  she  say  to 
Rufus  Honeywell?  He  has  called,  and,  seeing  no  one 
but  her  mother,  may  call  again. 

"  Say  nothing,"  I  answered.  "  Not  even  where  I 
am." 

"And  Mr.  Holt?"  she  asked  —  faintly. 

"  Has  he  called?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Say  nothing,  except  that,  if  he  should  find  me 
again,  my  name  is  Miss  Darnelle." 

I  wish  some  kind  Fate  would  lead  me  to  another 
part  of  the  world ! 


74  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

How  simple  life  would  be  for  women  if  there  were 
no  men! 

March  1st 

I  cannot  understand  what  has  just  happened. 

Cora,  the  second  maid,  brought  me  word  this  aft- 
ernoon that  a  lady  was  "  to  see  me."  The  children 
have  gone  with  their  father  to  Yonkers,  where  Uncle 
Don,  newly  arrived  from  California,  is  visiting  the 
senior  Vervaines.  So  I  went  down,  thinking  to  find 
Rebecca,  and  behold  —  Katy !  Katy,  swathed  in 
black,  for  the  relative  in  Ireland  has  died  for  once ! 

I  brought  her  up  to  the  nursery  where  she  told  me 
by  degrees  that  Aunt  Emmeline  had  returned  and 
had  forbidden  my  name  to  be  mentioned  in  her  pres- 
ence. But  the  servants,  said  Katy,  mention  it  to 
each  other,  and  miss  me  every  — 

Here  she  fumbled  for  her  handkerchief  and  cried, 
dear  Katy! 

At  last  she  rose  to  go.  It  seems  she  had  sought 
me  first  at  Mrs.  Hardy's  and  the  trip  had  taken  up 
the  greater  part  of  her  afternoon.  In  leaving,  she 
laid  a  sealed  envelope  in  my  hand,  saying  merely,  "  I 
was  told  to  hand  you  this."  I  supposed  it  was  a 
note  from  Aunt  Emmeline  and  received  it  gladly. 
Then  Katy  went  away  quickly,  having  promised  to 
come  and  see  me  again. 

But  it  was  not  a  note.  It  contained  no  written 
word  .  .  .  merely  five  clean  one-hundred  dollar  bills ! 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  75 

Has  Aunt  Emmeline  forgotten  that  she  gave  me 
my  money?  Does  she  think  that  I  am  in  dis- 
tress ? 

I  have  written  her  a  note  which  I  shall  register, 
enclosing  the  money  and  reminding  her  that  I  have  re- 
ceived my  little  heritage. 

I  have  told  her  that  I  have  a  position  now  and 
need  nothing.  And  I  have  tried  to  express  to  her  my 
gratitude.  How  could  I  have  so  misjudged  Aunt 
Emmeline? 

Night. 

Dicky  and  Elise  have  returned  from  Yonkers  with 
Uncle  Don  in  their  wake.  They  are  joyous  and 
flushed  and  Dicky  has  eaten  too  much  ice  cream.  I 
ought  to  have  been  along,  but  at  the  last  minute  Mr. 
Vervaine  bade  me  stay. 

"  Take  a  day  off,"  he  said  to  me,  out  of  the  kind- 
ness of  his  heart. 

Mrs.  Vervaine  was  away  selecting  favors  for  the 
cotillion  she  gives  next  week  at  the  Plaza.  Return- 
ing to  find  me  at  home,  she  was  severely  indignant, 
but  reserved  her  comments  for  her  husband.  He  met 
her  gaze  wearily  and  with  understanding.  They 
went  upstairs  together. 

Uncle  Don  looked  after  them  apprehensively. 

Then  his  eye  encountered  mine  as  I  gathered  in  my 
charges,  and  he  smiled. 

He  has  a  nice  smile,  patient  and  droll,  as  if  he 


76  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

found  all  sad  things  a  little  funny,  and  all  funny 
things  a  little  sad. 


March 

Jeremiah,  I  wish  you  could  talk. 

I  wish  you  could  tell  me  what  this  means.  And  I 
wish  you  would  inform  me,  accurately  and  all-see- 
ingly,  what  I  should  do!  Here  is  Aunt  Emmeline's 
note. 

"  My  dear  Zoe: 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  found  a  place,  as  you  call  it. 
As  to  where  your  real  place  is,  and  what  your  duties 
lawfully  are,  I  make  no  comment. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  the  money  you  have  mailed 
to  me,  and  I  herewith  return  it.  Of  what  you  mean 
by  my  having  given  you  your  *  little  legacy,'  I  am 
equally  ignorant.  If  it  be  your  opinion  that  your 
father's  five  hundred  dollars  was  not  many  times 
spent  on  you,  then  you  are  uninformed  as  to  the  cost 
of  a  girl's  schooling  and  wardrobe. 

"  In  justice  to  my  own  powers  of  discernment  I 
should  inform  you  that  I  suspected  from  the  start 
that  you  would  reward  our  benefactions  in  some  such 
way.  Despite  my  objections,  your  uncle  brought 
you  bodily  into  our  house.  At  his  death  his  will  con- 
tained the  provision  that,  until  your  marriage,  you 
should  be  cared  for  out  of  his  fortune.  Further, 
that  when  you  married,  I  should  enrich  you  from  the 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  77 

same  source  in  inverse  ratio  to  your  husband's  means. 
Had  you,  therefore,  taken  it  upon  yourself  to  marry 
a  poor  man,  I  should  have  been  obliged  to  repair  the 
deficit  in  his  income !  Moreover,  if  you  had  not  mar- 
ried at  all,  I  should  have  been  encumbered  with  you 
until  the  day  of  my  death. 

"  I  managed  to  some  degree  to  protect  myself  from 
my  husband's  folly,  the  extent  of  which  he  did  not 
live  to  see. 

"  EMMELINE  DARNELLE  MOBSE." 

So  the  two-year  limit  on  my  single  state  and  the 
rich  husband  were  Aunt  Emmeline's  measures  for 
self -protection ! 

However,  I  pass  this,  to  think  myself  threadbare 
over  the  source  of  the  money  she  has  returned!  I 
got  Katy  on  the  telephone  and  questioned  her,  but 
all  I  could  extract  was,  "  I  don't  know,  Miss  Zoe.  It 
was  handed  me.  I  was  told  to  deliver  it  to  you  — " 
All  this  in  a  very  shaky  voice,  very  disconnected,  as 
if  there  were  a  gap  of  some  sort  in  the  wire  be- 
tween us. 

"  But  who,  Katy?     Who?  " 

And  then  Katy's  voice  seemed  to  subside  into  thin 
air,  while  I  shook  the  'phone  and  cried,  "  Hello !  " 

"  Hello,  Miss  Zoe !  "  faintly.     Then  silence. 

But  I  know.  He  sent  me  this.  He  sent  me 
the  other  —  and  I  have  spent  some  of  it  —  more 
than  I  have  now,  counting  my  salary  for  this  month. 


78 

Oh,  Jeremiah,  of  course  I  must  return  it  —  for 
how  can  it  be  mine  ?  —  but  I  wish  you  would  tell  me 
what  to  say.  I  would  not  wound  the  hand  that  would 
help  me. 

March  5th 
I  have  sent  it  back  —  all  but  sixty  dollars.     I 

was  gentle  and  grateful,  but  firm.     I  told  him  I'd 

send  him  the  rest  when  I  could. 
This  is  what  came  to-day. 

"  My  dear  Straw  Wife: 

"  Since  you  will  not  accept  the  very  modest  allow- 
ance I  had  arranged,  through  Katy,  I  shall  hire  a  po- 
liceman —  and  a  burly  one  —  to  deliver  weekly  a  sum 
proportionate  to  your  obstinacy. 

"  Ask  yourself  this :  Have  I  not  the  right  to  give 
you  money  ?  " 

To  which  I  answered, 

"  Have  I  not  the  right  to  refuse?  " 

I  wonder  what  he  will  say  to  that ! 


VIII 

March  9th 

His  answer  was  his  personal  card  in  the  hands  of 
a  footman. 

How  thankful  I  am  that  Mrs.  Vervaine  was  out ! 

It  is  quite  possible  she  knows  him,  and,  seeing  him, 
would  recall  what  surely  she  read  in  the  papers,  and 
then  —  On  such  thin  ice  do  I  walk  that  I  tremble 
all  the  while.  I  had  meant,  in  time,  to  tell  my  em- 
ployer everything,  but,  now  that  I  know  her  better, 
I  feel  sure  she  would  consider  that,  having  been  mar- 
ried by  both  a  dean  and  a  bishop,  I  ought  to  stay 
with  my  husband. 

I  did  not  see  the  caller.  I  was  giving  the  children 
their  lessons  and  could  not  leave. 

Night 

Uncle  Don  walked  with  us  in  the  park  to-day. 
He  is  really  different  from  anyone  I  have  ever 

known.     He  seems,  by  the  path  of  suffering,  to  have 

reached   a  high   point  of  tranquillity  and  content. 

Yet  he  does  not  talk  down  from  his  mountain-top. 

He  reaches  down.     He  takes  your  hand,  as  it  were, 

and  you   seem  to   stand  beside  him.     The  view  is 

79 


80  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

beautiful  from  where  he  is.  For  hours  after  he 
leaves  me,  I  stand  there  still.  Then,  gradually,  I 
slide  down. 

Fifine  says  he  had  a  "  sad  affair."  The  lady  was 
not  the  unchanging  angel  he  had  dreamed,  and  "  II 
a  le  coeur  brise,"  finished  Fifine  with  a  little  shrug. 

To-day,  as  we  walked  in  the  park,  he  said  to  me, 
"  See  how  the  spring  is  pushing  through  last  year's 
fallen  leaves.  Yet  the  law  of  the  heart's  renewal  is 
even  more  urgent,  more  inevitable."  And  he  looked 
at  me. 

I  wonder  if  he  thinks  that  I,  too,  have  "  the  heart 
broken  "? 

March  llth 

It  is  Sunday. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vervaine  have  gone  to  a  sacred  con- 
cert somewhere. 

Dicky  and  Elise  went  early  to  bed,  and,  feeling 
myself  alone  and  free,  I  went  an  hour  ago,  down  into 
the  drawing-room. 

There  was  upon  me  a  rare  mood  for  music  and, 
without  turning  on  the  light,  I  opened  the  piano  and 
poured  upon  the  dusk  a  wandering  tide  of  chords. 

Presently  the  sounds  resolved  themselves  into  what 
might  have  been  the  melody  for  Heine's  Morgens 
steh  ich  auf  und  frage,  and  instinctively  I  began  to 
sing  the  words,  dropping  them  upon  the  music  as  one 
might  drop  flowers  into  a  flowing  stream. 

With  the  last  note  something  stirred  behind  me. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  81 

Uncle  Don  rose  from  a  chair  by  the  door  and  came 
over  to  the  piano. 

"  That  was  wonderful,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  know 
Heine's  Du  bis  wie  eine  Blume?  " 

I  was  so  frightened  for  a  moment  that  I  could  not 
speak,  and  then  I  said,  "  I  know  it  well.  I  have 
made  my  own  rendering  of  the  words.  I  sing  them 
to  my  father's  music." 

"  Sing  them,  won't  you?  I  hope  I  didn't  disturb 
you,  coming  in.  I  was  walking  the  veranda  and 
heard  you." 

I  answered  that  he  was  welcome,  and  sang  rather 
falteringly,  having  lost  my  abandon, 

"  Oh,  them,  so  like  a  flower, 
Beautiful,  pure  with  dew! 
I  gaze  on  thy  face,  and  sorrow 
Striketh  me  thro'  and  thro' ! 

"Would  I  might  lay  my  fingers 
Lightly  along  thy  hair, 
Imploring  our    Father   to  keep   thee 
Ever  so  pure  and  fair ! " 

Ah,  the  dear  music  as  it  stole  out  from  beneath 
my  fingers,  tender,  wistful,  freighted  in  the  old  time 
with  my  mother's  voice!  Rare  music,  blended  with 
the  smell  of  orange  blooms,  and  sweet  roses,  breath- 
ing in  the  dusk,  linked  with  the  shimmer  of  fireflies 
and  the  distant  paean  of  the  sea ;  linked,  indeed,  with 
all  the  gladness  that  ever  was,  and  never  could  be, 
for  me,  again! — •  And  then,  as  I  sat  there  silent, 


82  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

I  grew  conscious  of  the  stillness  that  had  filled  the, 
room. 

I  turned  to  see  Uncle  Don,  sitting  in  the  great 
chair,  motionless  as  if  carved  in  wood,  his  head 
bowed  on  his  hand. 

What  memories,  bitter-sweet,  did  the  song  hold 
for  him? 

I  rose,  and,  stealing  from  the  room,  came  softly 
up  the  stair. 

'March  18th 

Uncle  Don  has  gone  back  to  Yonkers.  It  seems 
he  has  but  come  East  on  business,  and  leaves  again 
in  two  days  for  California. 

Elise  celebrated  his  departure  with  a  series  of  un- 
maidenly  shrieks.  Dicky  made  H's  all  over  the 
counterpane. 

"  Dicky,"  I  said  suspiciously,  as  I  put  the  coun- 
terpane in  wash,  "  what  does  H  stand  for?  " 

"  Uncle  Don,"  said  Dicky. 

March  14th 

A  letter  from  Mr.  Holt,  quite  starchy  with  dig- 
nity. I  wonder  if  he  considers  I  strained  the  elastic 
of  our  contract  when  I  refused  to  see  him  the  other 
day? 

"  My  Dear  Zoe: 

"  I  shall  not  come  again,  unless  you  send  for  me. 
The  role  of  pursuing  husband  is  one  I  do  not  care  to 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  83 

continue.  Nor  shall  I  insist  further  on  giving  you 
money.  I  am  leaving,  however,  instructions  with 
my  bankers,  Bernard  and  Littleton,  to  honor  any 
draft  you  may  make  upon  them.  I  urge  that  you 
avail  yourself  of  this  right,  if  on  no  other  account, 
for  the  sake  of  a  fellow-mortal  who  feels  it  his  obli- 
gation "  (What  did  I  tell  you,  Jeremiah?)  "  to  pro- 
tect and  care  for  you. 

"  Shortly  before  our  marriage  there  was  offered 
to  me  a  piece  of  property  in  the  West.  I  am  leaving 
on  Thursday  to  take  another  look  at  it.  If  it  is 
what  I  think  it  is,  I  shall  buy  it  and  have  it  deeded 
to  you. 

"  Indisputably,  you  have  the  right  to  refuse  it. 

"  Equally  you  have  the  right  to  go  and  live  on  it, 
if  ever  you  should  feel  the  desire. 

"  May  I  say  to  you,  Zoe,  that  you  did  not  look 
so  well  when  I  saw  you  last?  The  climate  out  there 
might  do  you  good. 

"  May  I  say,  also,  that  I  shall  be  gone,  perhaps, 
a  month,  and  that  it  might  not  be  unbecoming  in  you 
to  invite  me  to  call  before  I  leave? 

"  DUDLEY." 

Certainly  not.  Pursuing  husband!  His  obliga- 
tion !  I  feel  like  making  H's  all  over  the  counter- 
pane. 

March  16th 
He's  gone.     A  box  of  roses  came  —  white  ones  — 


84  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

and  in  them  a  blank  card  inscribed  with  merely, 
"  Good-by." 

It  would  be  just  like  him  to  get  himself  banged 
up  in  a  railroad  wreck  so  that  I'd  feel  remorseful  for 
not  begging  him  to  stay. 

This  is  exasperating.  I'm  beginning  to  feel  re- 
sponsible for  him. 

It's  those  white  roses. 

Night 

Jeremiah ! 

I  set  the  roses  in  the  hall  just  now,  and  the  card 
fell  from  them,  and  turned  over.  It  was  Mr.  Donald 
Vervaine's  card.  There!  I  feel  no  marital  respon- 
sibilities whatever.  However,  a  telegram  came  an 
hour  ago,  saying,  "  Take  care  of  yourself.  Dud- 
ley." It  had  been  sent  from  Pittsburgh.  So  he's 
on  the  way. 

Now  for  peace. 

March  18th 

Uncle  Don  came  back  last  night. 

He  seems  to  have  postponed  his  departure  for  the 
West. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vervaine  were  shut  with  him  this 
afternoon  in  the  library.  Fifine  says  they  had 
words  —  very  quiet  ones,  but,  nevertheless,  "  words." 

I  met  him  on  the  stair  as  he  came  up  and  thanked 
him  for  the  roses.  He  said  only,  "  May  I  see  you 
in  the  library  after  dinner  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  I  answered,  feeling  cold  all  through. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  85 

He  knows.  .  .  .  Why  should  he  interfere? 

March  19th 

I  couldn't  write  last  night.  I  came  upstairs  al- 
most too  weak  to  stand.  When  finally  I  went  to 
bed  I  couldn't  sleep. 

Uncle  Don  was  in  the  library  before  me,  walking 
up  and  down.  As  I  entered  and  stood  waiting  for 
the  blow,  he  came  forward  and  took  my  hand. 

And  then  .  .  .  very  gently,  very  honorably,  he 
asked  me  to  marry  him.  He  said  that  he  loved  me, 
that  he  wanted  me,  and  added  quickly,  "  Don't  an- 
swer me  now.  I  know  how  you  feel.  But  I  can 
teach  you  to  love  me." 

"  Oh,  but  I  must  answer  you  now,"  I  said.  And 
I  told  him.  I  told  him  everything,  from  the  day 
Aunt  Emmeline  had  said  "  I  will  give  you  two  years," 
and  a  little  bit  before,  down  to  that  very  hour. 

He  stood  like  a  man  who  has  refused  the  anesthetic 
and  submits  in  full  consciousness  to  the  surgeon's 
knife. 

I  hated  every  minute  of  it.  I  hated  myself  for  the 
deception  that  had  made  the  interview  possible. 

When  I  had  finished  he  turned,  his  face  white,  as 
if  the  scalpel  had  required  all  his  blood,  and  went 
over  to  the  book-shelves  and  stood  studying  the  back 
of  a  volume  there  as  if  he  really  saw  it.  I  sat  down 
on  the  chesterfield  near,  for  I  think  I  felt  almost  as  ill 
as  he  did. 


86  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

At  last  he  came  back  and  stood  before  me. 

"  May  I  ask,"  he  said,  "  what  is  the  understand- 
ing between  your  husband  and  yourself,  since  he 
leaves  you  at  —  Since  he  leaves  you  free  ?  " 

I  know  he  started  tc  say  "  at  large,"  Jeremiah, 
but  was  too  kind. 

I  answered,  "  He  is  willing  that  I  do  —  what  I  am 
doing." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?     Do  you  realize  ?  " 

"  Why  —  taking  up  my  life  where  they  broke  the 
thread." 

"  But  you  cannot  do  that  —  not  in  the  way  you 
are  attempting  it.  The  world  won't  let  you."  He 
sat  down  beside  me.  Presently  he  asked,  "  Do  you 
believe  in  divorce?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  answered. 

"  You  have  thought  about  it  ?  " 

"  What  married  person  hasn't  ?  " 

"  If  you  should  ever  love  — " 

"  But  I  don't." 

"  Give  me  leave,"  said  Uncle  Don,  "  and  I  will 
teach  you." 

His  hands  folded  over  mine.     I  felt  him  trembling. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  taught,"  I  answered.  "  I 
want  to  know  of  myself." 

"  How  you  would  love !  "  he  said  softly.  "  How 
you  could ! " 

We  rose  together. 

"  I  am  sorry !  "  I  broke  forth. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  87 

He  winced.  "  Don't  say  that ! "  he  answered. 
And  then  he  straightened  himself  slowly.  "  Good- 
by,  little  girl,"  he  said. 

"  Good-by,"  I  whispered. 

Pressing  my  hand,  he  slowly  let  it  fall. 

Then  he  opened  the  door  for  me,  remaining  in  the 
library.  Shortly  after  midnight  I  heard  him  come 
up  to  his  room. 

I  hope  he  tells  Mrs.  Vervaine  all  I  told  him.  I 
hope  he  tells  everybody.  But  he  won't. 

If  he  doesn't  I  shall  tell  her  myself. 

I  can't  go  on  with  this  another  day. 

March  20th 

I  had  prayed  for  an  opportunity  to  tell  Mrs.  Ver- 
vaine, and  it  came. 

It  came,  Jeremiah,  and  many  other  things  have 
come. 

I  was  buttoning  Elise  into  her  white  fur  coat,  for 
the  day  was  cold  and  we  were  going  for  a  ride. 

Dicky  was  struggling  with  his  gloves  and  deplor- 
ing, as  he  always  does,  the  superfluity  of  six  of  his 
fingers. 

Mrs.  Vervaine  came  in. 

Her  manner  was  very  affable,  and  I  was  glad. 
Lately  she  had  seemed  vaguely  displeased,  and  had 
found  some  fault  with  my  work. 

"  Let  Fifine  go  with  the  children,"  she  said  to  me. 
"  I  should  like  a  little  talk  with  you." 


88  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

Dicky  snatched  off  his  glove  and  flung  it  on  the 
floor.  It  fell  at  his  mother's  feet,  like  a  challenge. 
He  gulped. 

Elise  lifted  her  chin. 

"  You  will  do  as  I  say,"  remarked  her  mother. 
The  children  withdrew  in  silence. 

Mrs.  Vervaine  sat  down,  motioning  me  to  a  chair 
opposite. 

"  I  notice  a  marked  improvement  in  Elise's  Eng- 
lish," she  said.  "  Dicky's,  too.  And  he  doesn't  dis- 
grace us  at  Sunday  dinner,  as  he  has  been  known  to 
do." 

When  I  had  thanked  her,  she  paused  and  added, 
"They  will  miss  their  Uncle  Don,  now  that  he  is  gone." 

I  hadn't  known  that  he  was  gone,  but  I  agreed  that 
they  no  doubt  would.  She  seemed  annoyed  with  my 
answer  and  said, 

"  You  were  sensible,  Miss  Darnelle,  in  declining 
his  proposal.  It  would  not  have  done  in  the  least. 
I  told  him  so  beforehand." 

I  braced  myself.  "  No,"  I  answered.  "  It  would 
not  have  done.  I  am  married  already." 

The  effect  on  her  was  electric. 

"You  —  you  —  when?"  she  stammered.  "Not 
—  not  here?  " 

I  think  she  was  fearful  I  had  seized  on  a  footman, 
or,  perhaps,  Churchill,  the  butler. 

"  Before  I  came,"  I  said,  thinking  to  relieve  her 
mind. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  89 

She  paled.  "  Before  —  before  —  And  you  al- 
lowed me  to  think  — "  She  could  not  go  on.  Her 
nostrils  widened.  The  large  vein  down  her  nose  en- 
larged and  grew  dark.  "  How  dare  — "  She  rose, 
gripping  the  chair-back. 

"  Mrs.  Vervaine,"  I  said,  as  tranquilly  as  I  could. 
"  What  possible  difference  could  such  a  matter  make 
in  my  work  ?  " 

"  What  difference?  "  she  cried.  "  In  every  re- 
spect. It  shows  that  you  are  treacherous  and  de- 
ceitful —  that  there  is  something  to  hide.  Where  is 
your  husband  ?  " 

This  question  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter 
in  hand,  but  I  answered  that  he  was  on  his  way  out 
West.  I  made  up  my  mind,  however,  that  I  would 
not  tell  her  things  she  could  not  understand. 

"  Isn't  he  able  to  take  care  of  you?  " 

"  Yes,  and  very  willing." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  live  with  him?  " 

In  the  silence  that  followed  this  question,  I  saw 
her  face  gradually  change.  "  Ah !  "  she  cried  sud- 
denly. "  Then  you  are  —  Fifine  said  that  a  man 
by  the  name  of  Holt  called  here  one  afternoon  — 
that  the  footman  said  he  looked  like  the  picture  of  — 
That  you  looked  like  the  picture  in  —  I  shut  her 
up.  I  told  her  it  was  impossible.  But  you  are  — " 
She  seemed  unable  to  complete  the  accusation. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Vervaine.  I  am  that  person.  Fifine 
was  right." 


90  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  So  —  so.  And  you  have  come  to  my  house ! 
All  this  notoriety,  leaving  your  husband  because  you 
weren't  satisfied  with  the  marriage  settlement  he  had 
made !  Oh,  I  remember  now  —  As  if  that  couldn't 
have  been  adjusted  beforehand  —  or  quietly,  at  any 
rate!  And  a  church  wedding  by  a  dean  and  a 
bishop — "  (I  knew  it,  Jeremiah!)  "And  your 
aunt's  kindness  thanklessly  flung  aside  —  turning 
yourself  into  a  mere  adventuress,  running  about  the 
country,  teaching  your  wiles  to  innocent  children, 
inveigling  men  — " 

She  stopped  as  if  from  sheer  lack  of  breath. 

My  whole  body  had  stiffened  until  it  felt  like  a 
sword. 

"  Mrs.  Vervaine,"  I  said,  "  if  you  will  spare  me 
your  further  opinions  which  cannot  in  the  least  con- 
cern me,  I  will  consider  myself  discharged,  and  leave 
at  once." 

"  Certainly  you  are  discharged ! "  she  shrieked. 

At  that  minute,  footsteps  that  had  been  coming 
down  the  hall  stopped  at  the  nursery  door.  It  was 
Mr.  Vervaine,  dressed  for  the  automobile,  and  look- 
ing rather  remonstrant. 

"  My  dear!     Your  voice !  "  he  ventured. 

Mrs.  Vervaine  turned.  "  Harold !  She  is  mar- 
ried!" 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  he  answered  after  a  moment. 
"  So  are  you." 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  91 

"  She  is  that  woman  —  the  one  whose  pictures  we 
saw  in  all  the  papers  —  leaving  her  husband,  instead 
of  arranging  things  beforehand.  .  .  ." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  he  repeated,  as  if  too  weary  to 
inquire  into  these  allusions.  "  But  whatever  her  rea- 
sons may  have  been,  let  us  remember  that  they  were 
her  own." 

"  You  may  go  at  once,"  she  remarked  to  me.  "  I 
can't  have  such  an  influence  around  the  children." 

My  month  was  almost  done,  but  to  the  moment  of 
my  departure  she  said  nothing  about  paying  me. 
Just  before  my  trunk  was  taken  out,  however,  Mr. 
Vervaine  came  in  and  laid  the  full  check  in  my  hand. 

At  the  door  he  stopped  and  said  to  me  kindly,  "  I 
have  no  fault  to  find  with  you.  Your  work  has  been 
remarkably  well  done.  But,  as  one  much  older  than 
yourself,  let  me  advise  you,  hereafter,  to  explain 
your  married  status.  It  will  save  difficulties  and 
misunderstanding.  Good-by,  and  good  luck  to  you." 

The  advice  was  fitting,  but  quite  redundant. 
Hereafter  I  shall  wear  my  married  state  like  a 
placard. 

But  difficulties  must  arise  either  way. 

When  one  has  committed  matrimony,  one  must  do 
lock-step  with  her  fellow  criminal  thereafter,  for- 
ever. 

Unless,  of  course,  she  prefers  the  social  electrocu- 
tion of  a  divorce.  There  is  no  reprieve. 


92 

I  am  back  at  Rebecca's.  They  received  me  gayly 
and  restored  me  to  Mr.  Simms'  room.  The  familiar 
rattle  of  crockery  ascends  from  below. 

And  I  cannot  help  wondering  what  Dicky  said 
when  he  came  back  from  his  ride  — 

Jeremiah,  I'll  ruin  your  complexion  if  I  splash 
tears  on  you  like  this. 

March  %3rd 

The  round  has  begun  again.  But  I  always  say 
"  Mrs."  now.  I  use  my  own  name,  but  I  put  "  Mrs." 
before  it.  And  heaven  witness  my  vow,  if  ever  I 
have  a  daughter  she  shall  face  the  world  in  the  armor 
of  some  business  training.  Never  shall  she  be 
dropped  like  a  houseless  snail  into  a  live  ant  bed. 

March  24th 

Crowds  —  crowds  —  and  bruised  feet  and  aching 
head.  And  always  Gray  Coat  moving  before  me  or 
behind  me  like  a  shadow.  Once  through  a  strange, 
ill-smelling  street  he  walked  at  my  side,  and  to-day 
when  I  would  have  rung  the  bell  at  a  house  with 
drawn  shades,  I  found  him  beside  me  on  the  step. 
"  Not  here,"  he  said,  and  I  saw  that  his  hand  covered 
the  bell,  so  that  I  could  not  have  rung  it  if  I  would. 
Too  weary  to  protest,  I  turned  away. 

Mrs.  Hardy  said  to  me  to-night,  "  Why  don't  you 
make  your  husband  love  you,  Zoe,  if  that's  what's 
the  matter?  Go  live  with  him,  and  win  him.  Then 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  93 

no  matter  how  he  came  to  marry  you,  the  result  will 
be  the  same." 

"  Teach  you  to  love  me,"  so  said  Uncle  Don. 

"  Make  him  love  you,"  counsels  Mrs.  Hardy. 

It  but  remains  for  someone  to  advise,  "  Go  out  and 
buy  love." 

Perhaps  some  people  think  they  can,  for  winning 
and  teaching  in  this  connection,  are  merely  other 
words  for  buying. 

Can  one  buy  an  honorable  mind,  a  generous  soul, 
purity,  courage,  content? 

Can  one  buy  love? 

We  rail  at  marriage,  we  who  have  not  entered  it 
aright  —  we  who  have  not  entered  it  at  all. 

I  know  now  what  marriage  is. 

It  is  a  walled  garden  with  a  great  gate  to  which 
Love  is  the  key.  And  those  who  would  enter  with- 
out opening  the  gate  must  creep  beneath  the  wall  or 
climb  over. 

And  all  the  fruit  will  be  dust  for  the  creepers  and 
climbers.  The  flowers  will  wither  at  their  touch. 
For  them  will  be  thorns  and  adders  and  bitter  foun- 
tains and  burning  sands. 

Am  I  not  right  to  turn  away,  rather  than  climb 
the  wall? 


"  And   yet,"    says   dear  Rebecca,   "  some   people 
marry  with  only  friendship  and  are  quite  happy." 


94  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  What  does  that  prove,"  I  answered,  "  except 
that  friendship  is  love?  " 

What  is  friendship,  indeed,  but  Love  with  his  eyes 
open?  And  he  who  thinks  he  buys  friendship  takes 
his  parcel  home  to  find  inside  only  toleration,  or 
gratitude,  or  pity  —  never,  never  the  shining,  golden 
Key.  And  why  —  why,  when  blind  men  and  women 
have  for  pity,  or  gratitude  or  toleration,  climbed  into 
the  garden,  and  found  dust  and  brambles  and  bar- 
ren sands,  why  has  the  world  so  hung  the  inside  wall 
with  snags  and  cruelties,  making  the  climbing  out 
again  so  breaking  a  task  —  so  hard,  indeed,  that 
many  lie  where  they  fall,  with  no  attempt  at  egress? 

Is  it  not  because  of  this  that  we  see  hands  reach- 
ing through  the  broken  places  in  the  wall,  to  clasp 
hands  outside,  or  faces  peering  through  the  barred 
gate-way  into  faces  beyond? 

Is  it  not  because  of  this  we  see  veiled  forms  crawl- 
ing from  beneath  the  wall  into  the  darkness  outside, 
to  gather  in  whispering  pairs,  and  steal  away  into 
the  night,  returning  before  day  with  shamed  faces 
and  stumbling  words  ? 

For  the  wall  is  broken  at  the  base,  and  the  world 
does  not  care. 


IX 

March 

Rufus  Honeywell  called  yesterday. 

It  was  a  Sunday,  and  I  had  hoped  to  rest,  but 
Rufus  has  always  the  knack  of  finding  me  in  the 
hall. 

I  was  just  coming  upstairs,  having  helped  Rebecca 
in  the  dining-room,  and  there  stood  Rufus,  hat  in 
hand. 

He  appeared  excited  and  approached  me  with  the 
air  of  one  too  charged  with  his  errand  to  fear  a  dis- 
missal. I  suppose  it  was  curiosity,  or  maybe,  just 
surprise.  I  went  with  him  into  the  parlor. 

"  Miss  Ballentyne,"  he  began ;  then,  with  some- 
thing like  annoyance,  "  Oh,  I  know  you've  a  married 
name,  but  I  haven't  heard  it  yet.  It  doesn't  mat- 
ter—" 

"  You  seem  to  know  my  other  name  pretty  well," 
I  observed. 

"  Yes,  and  I  know  the  terms  of  your  contract  with 
the  man  you  were  married  to.  I  know  everything 
except  your  present  name.  I  could  find  it  out  by 
looking  up  old  newspapers,  but  I  tell  you  I  don't  care 

enough.     I'm  interested  in  the  contract,  that's  all. 

95 


96  THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

I  want  you  to  take  advantage  of  its  terms  and  marry 
me." 

"  Is  that  what  you  came  for?  " 

"Yes.     Will  you  do  it?" 

"  No,"  I  said. 

"  I  tell  you  I  need  you  —  bad.  I'll  make  you  love 
me." 

"  You'll  make  me  hate  you." 

"  Well,  that's  something.  Listen.  I'm  leaving 
town  in  four  days.  I  thought  I  could  go  without 
you,  but  I  can't.  Think  a  minute  now.  I've  got 
money  —  or  will  have  when  Granny —  But  that's 
neither  here  nor  there.  I've  good  prospects.  See 
that  hand?  It's  a  surgeon's  hand.  There's  nothing 
I  can't  cut.  With  you  at  my  side  — " 

"  There's  one  thing  I  wish  you'd  cut,"  I  inter- 
rupted, "  and  that's  these  visits  to  me.  I  thought 
you  had  something  to  tell  me." 

"Well,  for —  Haven't  I  told  you  something? 
Look  here,  Miss  Ballentyne,  I  love  you.  I  want  you. 
Come  on  —  go  West  with  me.  Prove  a  year's  resi- 
dence, and  get  a  divorce.  I  know  what's  the  matter. 
You  don't  believe  me.  You  think  I  won't  be  waiting 
at  the  church,  but  I  will." 

"  I'd  wait  in  a  restaurant,"  I  said.  "  You  may 
get  hungry." 

"That's  final?"  smiled  Rufus. 

"  Dr.  Honeywell,"  I  answered,  "  will  you  tell  me, 
as  one  interested  in  the  extraordinary,  just  which 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  97 

of  your  charms  you  rely  on  as  irresistible?  Or  is  it 
their  collected  strength  which  gives  you  such  confi- 
dence? " 

Rufus  looked  at  me.  "  That's  what  I  love  about 
you,  you  shooting  star!  I  love  your  beams  and 
your  sparkles  and  I  love  you  when  you  burn  my 
fingers !  But  I  won't  argue  with  you  —  not  in  this 
mood.  I'm  going  now."  He  stopped,  came  closer, 
to  me,  and  said,  very  softly,  very  slowly,  "  You're 
going  to  change  your  mind.  You're  coming  with 
me." 

And  in  the  same  slow,  careful  way  he  told  me  the 
very  day  and  hour  and  minute  of  his  ridiculous  old 
train. 

Then  he  went  away. 

Night 

"  Rebecca,"  I  said  to-night,  "  how  in  the  world  did 
Rufus  Honeywell  find  out  — " 

"  It  was  Mamma,"  said  Rebecca.  "  I  came  back 
one  evening  while  you  were  gone  to  find  him  talking 
with  her.  She  hadn't  told  him  your  name,  nor  where 
you  were,  for  I  had  warned  her  as  to  those,  but  she'd 
told  everything  else.  Try  to  forgive  her.  Zoe  — " 
She  stopped. 

"Yes?" 

"  He  told  Mamma  that  he  meant  to  get  you  if  he 
had  to  carve  the  world  in  two.  He's  red-headed,  you 
know." 

"  I  don't  care  if  he's  red-handed." 


98 

"  He  might  make  some  sort  of  scandal,  though. 
Mamma  thinks  he'll  drive  you  to  your  husband.  I 
think  not,  since  your  Aunt  Emmeline  failed." 

"  Aunt  Emmeline !  "  I  cried,  sitting  up  —  I  had 
gone  to  bed  —  "  She  hasn't  made  one  effort." 

"  What  else  was  her  sending  you  away  without 
any  money  ?  "  asked  Rebecca.  "  I  call  that  a  very 
clever  effort.  She  simply  turned  you  loose  on  the 
world  and  trusted  to  its  whips  to  drive  you  where  you 
belonged.  And  he " —  she  looked  at  me.  "  Ah, 
Zoe,  he  opened  his  arms  straightway  to  shelter  you, 
and  since  you  preferred  to  stay  out  in  the  world,  he 
would  have  wrapped  you  well  against  its  blows,  re- 
fusing the  very  advantage  she  gave." 

I  was  thinking  of  Aunt  Emmeline. 

Right  fair  is  her  knowledge  of  human  nature. 

Does  she  believe  that  some  day  in  my  trudging,  I 
shall  trudge  wearily  to  him? 

March  27th 

Mrs.  Hardy  has  what  she  thinks  may  be  an  open- 
ing for  me.  This  cousin  of  hers  —  this  Theodore 
who  used  to  be  on  a  ranch  —  has  moved  with  his  em- 
ployer to  Acme,  Texas,  and  has  resumed  his  old  oc- 
cupation of  gardening. 

This  employer  wants  a  social  secretary,  and  Theo- 
dore having  told  them  that  he  has  relatives  in  New 
York,  was  asked  to  see  what  he  could  do  toward  find- 
ing one  here. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE  99 

"  But  to  come  from  New  York  isn't  all,"  appended 
Mrs.  Hardy,  turning  over  Theodore's  letter  rather 
worriedly.  "  You  must  be  recommended  by  some- 
body with  name  —  one  of  the  Four  Hundred,  the  let- 
ter says  —  for  they  want  everything  swell,  now  that 
they've  left  the  ranch.  And,  mind  you,  Theodore 
says  they  keep  up  with  all  the  doings  here  through 
the  papers,  and  they  know  as  much  about  the  big 
folks  as  we  do  ourselves  —  maybe  more.  You  see 
they  want  to  do  in  Acme  just  like  the  Four  Hundred 
do  in  New  York  and  they  want  a  social  secretary 
from  the  inside  to  show  'em  how.  You  could  do  it, 
Zoe,  if  only —  Now  your  Aunt  Emmeline's 
name  — " 

"  Aunt  Emmeline  wouldn't  recommend  me,"  I  has- 
tened to  say.  Yet  what  wouldn't  I  give  to  slip  away 
to  Acme  or  anywhere  else  at  the  world's  edge,  where 
the  whips  of  life  could  not  drive  my  trudging  feet 
to  — 

Then  all  of  a  sudden  I  thought  of  Mrs.  Coberton ! 
Her  name  is  known  wherever  suffrage  is  discussed 
and  she  is  my  friend. 

So,  after  I  had  read  Cousin  Theodore's  letter,  and 
gotten  some  idea  of  what  the  people  wanted,  I  went 
straight  to  see  her. 

She  was  dictating  a  letter  when  I  came  in  and 
motioned  me  brightly  to  a  chair.  Presently,  dis- 
missing the  stenographer,  she  said,  smiling,  "  Have 
you  come  to  help  us?"  Then  as  I  hesitated,  more 


100          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

gravely,  "You  have  come  for  help  yourself.     Isn't 
that  it?  " 

So  I  gave  her  my  story.  It  was  so  different  from 
the  things  she  had  read  and  heard  in  that  connection, 
that  I  think  she  hardly  recognized  my  case. 

"  What  courage,  my  child !  How  plucky  and  how 
—  pathetic !  "  She  smiled.  "  I  shall  have  to  say 
as  my  mother  said  of  such  another  instance  this  morn- 
ing, *  It  could  happen  only  in  this  absurd  twentieth 
century ! ' : 

"Is  this  century  absurd?"  I  asked,  thinking 
vaguely  of  its  achievement  and  marveling  at  its  won- 
derfulness. 

"  To  the  older  generation,  yes.  Suppose  you 
went  to  sleep  in  your  own  little  bed,  and  at  daylight 
woke  in  strange  quarters  to  the  sound  of  unfamiliar 
cries.  Would  not  reality  seem  a  dream  and  all  be- 
wildering? The  marvels  of  the  age  they  accept,  for 
progress  is  visible  when  it  works  immediate  good. 
But  attack  the  institutions  which  our  forefathers 
have  helped  unquestioningly  to  preserve,  and  hear 
the  outcry.  Create  that  chaos  which  Nietzsche  tells 
us,  gives  birth  to  stars,  and  you  become  a  center  of 
war.  If  you  are  clad  in  the  armor  of  a  great  creed 
and  carry  the  sword  of  an  invincible  conviction,  you 
may  survive  with  many  scars,  but  if  — " 

"  I  have  only  my  ideals,"  I  said. 

"  Excalibur !  "  she  whispered.  "  -Yet  even  Arthur 
was  wounded  unto  death." 


101 

"  I  understand,"  I  answered.  "  You  advise 
me—" 

"  Dear  child,"  she  said  quickly,  "  I  don't  advise 
you.  In  a  matter  that  concerns  the  growth  of  an- 
other individual,  the  law  of  another  nature,  who  can 
counsel  ?  But  I  do  regret  — "  and  here  she  smiled. 
"  I  do  regret  seeing  one  so  young  —  and  lovely  — 
hurl  herself  against  the  time-grounded  structure  of 
matrimony.  And  so  soon,  too  —  before  she  has  en- 
deavored to  discover  if  for  her  it  might  not  prove  a 
perfect  shelter.  But  since  you  have — "  She 
straightened  a  little  in  her  chair.  "  Since  you  have, 
let  us  see  about  these  people  who  want  a  secretary. 
Where  do  they  live  ?  " 

I  told  her. 

"  I  have  a  correspondent  living  in  Acme,"  she 
said,  "  a  worker  in  our  cause.  If  you  have  not  suffi- 
cient references  I  can  wire  inquiries  of  her." 

I  told  her  all  I  had  learned  from  Theodore's  letter. 

"  That  should  be  enough,"  she  said.  "  References 
from  servants  usually  come  from  the  ground  up  and 
are  rather  reliable.  However,  I  shall  wire  my  friend 
also.  As  for  my  name,"  with  the  genial  flashing  of 
her  smile,  "  go  with  it  as  far  as  it  will  take  you. 
Leave  me  the  address.  If  the  answer  to  my  wire  is 
satisfactory  I  will  send  a  second  message  to  the  peo- 
ple themselves.  It  will  save  time." 

I  rose,  hesitating.  One  thing  she  appeared  to 
have  overlooked. 


102          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  My  qualifications,"  I  reminded  her.  "  You  are 
certain  of  those?  " 

She  rose,  also,  laying  a  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and 
looking  into  my  eyes.  "  Dear  child,"  she  said,  "  you 
are  qualified  to  be  anything  you  choose.  You  may 
ask  of  life  what  gift  you  will.  Yet  I  pray  that  your 
choice  will  yet  be  to  make  a  good  man  happy  with 
heaven's  own  happiness." 

Now  who  would  have  looked  for  that  from  a  suf- 
fragette? 

March  31st 

Jeremiah,  beloved,  I  am  going  to  Acme ! 

Mrs.  Razor,  herself,  has  telegraphed  to  Mrs.  Co- 
berton  and  asks  that  I  leave  at  once.  I  feel  for  the 
first  time  as  if  I  had  climbed  up  on  a  high  place  and 
was  about  to  jump  into  —  what? 

Mrs.  Hardy  says  this  is  because  I  am  leaving  old 
land-marks. 

That  here  I  know  I  have  friends,  while  there  — 

But  I  can  make  friends,  perhaps. 

And  maybe  I  shall  meet  Tubby.  Tubby,  that  one 
living  thread  —  if  he  be  still  alive  —  by  which  I 
might  draw  back  into  my  life  that  whole  golden  tapes- 
try of  happy  days ! 

And  perhaps  I  shall  see  the  gulf  again  —  the  beau- 
tiful southern  sea,  with  its  waves  made  of  caresses 
and  its  white,  white  sand. 

Perhaps  —     Ah,  who  knows  what  may  come  ? 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          103 

I  have  been  figuring.  I  hate  it.  The  sight  of  an 
account  book  drives  me  ill,  while  by  merely  looking 
hard  at  the  figure  8  I  could  go  stark  mad. 

However,  I  had  to  know  something,  and  I  ex- 
tracted my  little  book  from  the  bottomest  part  of 
my  trunk,  and  went  to  work.  The  result  showed  a 
most  mournful  deficit.  That  is,  the  expenses  to 
Acme  amounted  by  twenty  dollars  to  more  than  I 
had  on  hand. 

I  had  just  put  down  the  pencil,  feeling  suddenly 
blank  and  empty,  when  Mrs.  Hardy  came  in  —  I  am 
rooming  with  her  now,  for  Mr.  Simms  has  come  back 
—  and  laid  three  ten  dollar  bills  right  over  the  col- 
umn of  crazy  figures. 

"  They  are  the  identical  same  ones,"  she  said. 
"  You  pinned  'em  to  your  pillow,  Zoe  —  which  wasn't 
nice." 

We  had  some  words,  but  she  kissed  me  and  said 
something  about  my  having  been  her  guest  and  not 
enjoying  my  visit  if  I  misbehaved. 

Poor  people  are  good  to  one  another,  Jeremiah. 

Later 

Rebecca  is  to  be  married !  This  very  night !  Lit- 
tle did  I  think  to  connect  the  return  of  Mr.  Simms 
with  such  a  red-gold  event  as  this !  Little  did  Re- 
becca, either,  for  that  matter!  For  all  he  had  done 
when  he  left  was  grip  her  hand  and  turn  away  and 
never  a  word  had  he  said.  He  travels  for  a  tea- 


104          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

house  and  they  had  transferred  him  to  some  place 
away  out  in  Arizona,  which  might  as  well  be  in  the 
Canary  Islands,  and  where  you  wouldn't  suppose 
people  ever  bought  tea.  And  they  were  paying  him 
such  a  little,  Jeremiah,  hardly  enough  for  a  man  to 
live  on  alone. 

So  he  just  looked  at  Rebecca  and  dropped  her 
hand,  when  he  wanted  to  pull  her  away  with  him. 

And  that's  what  he's  going  to  do  now,  for  they're 
sending  him  to  San  Francisco  to  take  charge  of  a 
whole  house  of  tea,  and  they're  going  to  pay  him  a 
big  salary,  for  he'll  be  a  big  man!  And  he's  just 
come  flying  back  to  pack  up  his  things  and  get  Re- 
becca, and  go  flying  away  again.  Oh,  I'm  so  happy ! 

I've  given  Rebecca  my  chinchilla  coat  for  a  wed- 
ding present.  She  didn't  want  to  take  it,  but  I  made 
her. 

And  she's  to  be  married  to-night  down  in  the  par- 
lor. 

We  all  three  leave  right  after.  Our  trains  are 
only  ten  minutes  apart. 

Night 

It  was  a  beautiful  wedding,  Jeremiah. 

Just  Mrs.  Hardy  and  I  and  some  of  the  boarders 
—  and,  of  course,  the  minister.  Rebecca  wore  the 
gray  suit  she  got  this  winter  and  the  little  chinchilla 
hat  which  goes  with  the  coat.  It's  dreadfully  cold 
for  March.  Mr.  Simms  had  brought  her  a  cluster 
of  red  meteor  roses,  and  she  had  pinned  these  at  her 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          105 

breast,  and  her  face  was  all  full  of  beautiful  light, 
as  if  deep  inside  her  heart  were  fairly  afire  with  love 
and  hope. 

And  I  thought  of  the  little  pinafores  she  used  to 
wear,  and  the  round-comb  and  her  worn  books  and 
sturdy,  trudging  shoes.  I  thought  of  the  cellar  steps 
where  we  had  kissed  "  good-by."  And  all  the  time  I 
was  looking  into  the  face  of  the  strong,  kind  man 
who  was  being  made  her  husband,  and  my  heart 
brimmed  to  the  breaking  point  with  pride  and  thank- 
fulness. 

Oh,  how  beautiful  marriage  can  be,  when  it  is  like 
this! 

I've  written  good-bys  to  Katy  and  Aunt  Emmeline, 
but  I  didn't  tell  them  where  I'm  going.  I  mean  to 
hide  myself.  I  am  taking  all  my  trunks,  and  I  dare 
say  it  will  look  queer  —  but  let  us  hope  they  will 
suppose  this  the  proper  equipment  for  a  New  York 
lady  secretary! 

And  now,  Jeremiah,  I've  only  a  minute  to  tuck 
you  in  the  bag  and  say  "  good-by  "  to  dear  Mrs. 
Hardy,  who  in  the  field  of  copious  weeping,  is  with- 
out a  peer.  She  drenched  Rebecca's  beautiful  lace 
jabot,  and  still  had  a  sufficient  shower  on  hand  to 
christen  the  shoulder  of  my  new  black  suit. 

It's  beautiful  to  be  wept  over.  I  felt  like  a  plant 
being  watered. 

A  letter  from  Dicky  came  to-day.  I'm  saving  it 
to  read  on  the  train. 


106          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

Aboard  the  Southbound, 

April  1st 

Rebecca's  gone.  They  stood  on  the  porch  of  the 
observation  car  and  waved  to  me  as  they  departed 
into  the  night.  And  it  looked  to  me,  standing  there 
between  my  satchels, —  it  looked  to  me  as  if  around 
them  shone  a  halo  of  holy  light. 

God  bless  them!  God  bless  them  wherever  they 
are! 

April  2nd 

Oh,  my  heaven !  Rufus  Honeywell  is  on  this  train ! 
I  didn't  know  it  until  I  went  in  to  breakfast.  And 
there  I  saw  him,  sitting  at  a  table,  laid  for  two,  the 
vacant  chair  opposite  him  turned  on  its  knees,  face 
to  the  table,  as  if  praying  aggressively  to  be  left 
alone. 

I  must  have  betrayed  my  astonishment  at  sight  of 
him,  for  there  came  to  me  a  wild  impulse  to  turn  back 
into  my  own  coach.  But  Rufus'  face  was  a  study  in 
pleasant  greeting  and  subdued  delight.  He  evinced 
not  the  least  surprise,  but,  speaking  to  his  waiter, 
let  his  eye  travel  significantly  from  mine  to  the  vacant 
chair.  The  waiter  came  toward  me,  lifting  a  finger. 
I  marched  straight  past  him  and  settled  myself  at 
the  far  end  of  the  car,  my  back  to  Rufus.  The  place 
was  deserted  except  for  us  and  an  elderly  couple  near 
me  who  were  discussing  Mormons  —  or  it  may  have 
been  Normals.  I  was  dreadfully  upset.  They  went 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          107 

out  presently,  I  gave  my  order  to  the  waiter,  and 
after  a  time  Rufus,  passing  to  his  coach,  stopped  at 
my  side,  speaking  softly. 

"Plucky  little  girl!"  he  said.  "God  bless  you 
for  this !  But  your're  right  to  stay  apart  from  me 
—  till  we  get  further  along,  at  any  rate.  There 
might  be  somebody  — " 

"  I  don't  know  what  — "  I  indignantly  began,  but 
he  didn't  wait. 

"  Maybe  you  think  I  wasn't  glad,"  he  whispered, 
"  when  I  saw  your  face  in  the  station  last  night.  I 
swear  I'd  have  turned  back  and  gotten  you  if  you 
hadn't  come.  I  tried  to  go  in  and  see  you  right  after 
we  started,  but  I  couldn't.  I've  got  a  patient  with 
me.  He  had  a  bad  night.  See  you  later  — "  And 
he  went  out  just  as  my  waiter  came  in.  I  had  kept 
my  head  turned  and  was  looking  out  the  window 
all  the  time  he  was  talking,  but  this  seemed  to  be  pre- 
cisely what  he  had  expected  me  to  do. 

I'll  interrupt  when  he  sees  me  later. 

I  opened  Dicky's  letter.  It  held  two  words,  strag- 
gling gigantically  across  the  page.  They  were,. 
"  Come  Home." 

Later 

Rufus  has  been  in. 

He  threw  some  magazines  on  the  seat  opposite^ 
sat  down  beside  me,  informed  me  that  his  patient  was 
doing  very  well  and  that  nobody  he  knew  was  on  the 


108          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

train.     Then  he  tried  to  take  my  hand  and  I  inter- 
rupted. 

I  told  him  briefly  and  firmly  that  if  I  had  known 
he  was  aboard  I  would  have  avoided  this  train  as 
carefully  as  if  it  had  been  carrying  a  consignment  of 
small-pox  patients  to  Gehenna;  that  I  hadn't  lis- 
tened or  cared  when  he  told  me  what  train  he  meant 
to  take,  and  that  if  he  felt  it  his  role  to  annoy  me 
any  further  I  should  speak  to  the  porter. 

Rufus  smiled  tolerantly. 

"  Little  girl,"  he  said,  "  why  must  you  spoil  what 
I  consider  downright  bully  and  altogether  fine? 
You've  made  me  so  happy  I  can't  sleep,  and  you've 
shown  a  pluck  and  a  courage  that  make  me  feel  how 
unworthy  I  am  — " 

"  I  wish  you  did  feel  it ! "  I  bit  off.  "  It  would 
help  you  to  believe  me  when  I  say  I  wouldn't  have  the 
pluck  to  go  with  you,  and  haven't  displayed  it.  I'd 
get  off  this  train  right  now  if  I  hadn't  my  berth  paid 
for—" 

Rufus  straightened  and  faced  me. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said  stolidly,  "  I  know  a  thing  or 
two.  I  knew  when  I  looked  in  your  eyes  that  day 
and  told  you  without  any  quibbling  what  train  I 
meant  to  take  and  what  you  could  do  or  not  do  — • 
I  knew  you'd  come.  And  I  know,  too,  that  the  way 
to  handle  you  is  not  to  spread  honey  and  coax  you, 
but  to  catch  you  by  your  wings  and  carry  you  off. 
So.  That's  what  you  like." 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          109 

"  It  is?  "  I  inquired.  "  Well,  we'll  see  how  that 
procedure  appeals  to  you,  when  I  recommend  it  to 
the  porter."  I  turned  to  the  bell.  But  I  did  want 
him  to  go  without  a  scene,  if  I  could  manage  it. 

Rufus  laid  what  he  calls  his  surgeon's  hand  over 
mine  and  spoke  with  what  he  no  doubt  considers  his 
soothing  surgeon's  tone. 

"  You  wouldn't  go  that  far.  Besides,  if  you  did, 
my  patient,  being  one  of  the  bosses  of  the  road, 
would  never  let  them  eject  his  physician.  And  if 
you  should  push  me  out  of  the  window  yourself,  he'd 
merely  command  a  special  train  to  pick  me  up  and 
bring  me  back  to  him.  I  love  you,  didn't  I  tell  you, 
even  when  you  burn  my  fingers.  But  don't  let's  play 
in  the  fire  all  day !  When  we  get  to  New  Mexico  — " 

"  Just  a  minute,"  I  said.  A  sudden  inspiration 
had  seized  me.  "  I  see  I  must  tell  you  the  truth.  I 
haven't  wanted  to,  for  it's  —  it's  so  very  personal. 
But  I  didn't  know  you  were  on  this  train.  I  don't 
wonder  you  thought  I  did,  but  it  was  an  accident. 
I  am  not  on  my  way  to  New  Mexico.  I  am  on  my 
way  to  my  husband.  We've  made  up.  He  may 
come  aboard  at  any  minute." 

Rufus  looked  at  me.     "  What?  "  he  said. 

I  met  his  eyes  squarely.  Part  of  it  was  true,  any- 
way. 

He  rose.  "I  —  I  leave  you,  then,"  he  remarked, 
a  bit  breathlessly,  "  to  your  reunion." 

He  went  out.     I  haven't  seen  him  since. 


110          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

April  3rd 

I  am  suddenly  bewildered.     Not  about  Rufus. 

Rufus  is  gone.  But  about  my  name!  What  did 
Mrs.  Coberton  call  me  when  she  wired  the  Razors  ? 

My  trunks  are  all  marked  "  Ballentyne,"  and  my 
bags.  Perhaps  I'd  better  hold  to  that. 

Aye,  Rufus  is  gone  —  without  looking  back. 

He  left  us  at  St.  Louis,  supporting  a  man  wrapped 
in  a  steamer  rug,  terribly  thin.  A  nurse  followed 
them,  carrying  a  camp  stool.  Rufus  looked  ruddy, 
indeed,  beside  that  mournful  figure. 

Yes,  I  shall  go  back  to  the  Ballentyne.  A  woman 
takes  her  husband's  name,  I  understand,  only  by 
courtesy. 

But  I  shall  hold  to  the  Mrs.  Come  what  may,  I 
shall  not  let  fall  the  Mrs.! 


April  5th 

Well,  Jeremiah,  we're  here.  We  arrived  last 
night. 

There  was  a  lean,  shuffling  man  with  a  kind  face 
and  a  big  limousine.  He  sat  in  the  back  with  me  and 
was  silent  after  his  first,  "  Miss  —  Miss  — " 

"  Mrs.,"  I  corrected  at  once. 

"  Mrs. — "  he  repeated,  abashed. 

"  Ballentyne,"  I  informed  him. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  he  accepted.  "  Razor's  my  name." 

There  were  a  few  miles  of  thoroughfare  —  for 
Acme  is  bigger  than  I  had  any  idea  —  then  a  stretch 
of  pruned  country  roadway,  blossomy  beneath  the 
moon  and  guarded  here  and  there  by  great  houses, 
set  back  on  rolling  terraces. 

We  passed  through  a  great  gate  between  softly 
shining  mediaeval  lamps,  circled  a  fountain  and  halted 
shortly  before  broad  stone  steps. 

I  have  a  confused  recollection  of  entering  a  bril- 
liant hall  and  beholding  straightway  a  large  woman 
in  a  satin  gown,  a  bright-haired  girl  and  an  old  lady 
with  an  ear-trumpet.  They  had  met  me  as  we  opened 
the  door,  and  I  felt  their  various  inspections. 

The  large  lady,  it  turned  out,  was  Mrs.  Razor. 
Ill 


She  said,  "  You  may  as  well  go  upstairs,  Miss  ; — • 
Excuse  me,  but  we  never  did  get  the  name.  Mrs. 
Coberton  didn't  mention  it." 

"  Ballentyne,"  Mr.  Razor  informed  her  at  once. 

"  Mrs.  Ballentyne,"  I  said. 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Mrs.  Razor.  "  Go  upstairs 
with  her,  Claire." 

So  Claire  with  her  bright  hair  led  the  way  to  my 
room,  which  is  just  off  hers,  and  as  pink  as  the  inside 
of  a  shell.  I  slept  like  a  door  mat,  and  this  morning  I 
was  late  for  breakfast.  The  family,  it  appears,  rise 
with  the  sun,  and  I  should  have  eaten  alone,  had  not 
Mrs.  Razor  come  into  the  breakfast  room  and  sat 
with  me. 

The  duties  of  a  secretary,  as  outlined  by  her,  are 
rather  broad  and  various.  First  of  all,  I  am  a  com- 
panion to  Claire.  In  addition,  I  am  to  compose  her 
letters,  that  is,  the  formal  ones,  for  Claire,  it  seems, 
is  addicted  to  bluntness  in  her  correspondence. 
Moreover,  I  am  to  be  for  all  a  manual  of  etiquette, 
a  shining  example  and  a  vigilant  chaperon.  Finally, 
Mrs.  Razor  remarked, 

"  I  wired  Mrs.  Coberton  I  would  pay  you  what- 
ever salary  was  right.  What've  you  been  getting?  " 

I  told  her. 

"  But,  honey,"  she  said  compassionately  smiling, 
"  you  couldn't  live  on  forty  dollars  a  month !  More- 
over, I  don't  want  no  cheap  secretary.  We'll  start 
you  out  at,  say,  seventy-five." 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          113 

I  humbly  accepted  her  ruling. 

"  I  thought  from  what  the  lady  wired  you  must 
be  an  old  maid,"  continued  Mrs.  Razor,  large  and 
tightly  girded,  in  her  lacey  morning  jacket,  her  kind 
face  beaming  beneath  an  elaborate  coiffure.  "  I'm 
surprised  at  your  being  so  young.  I'm  glad  you've 
been  married,  though.  Makes  you  better  for  a 
chaperon.  Husband  dead  ?  " 

I  shook  my  head.  She  laid  a  large  warm  hand 
over  mine.  "  Never  mind,  honey,"  she  remarked. 
"  There  lots  of  cases  like  yours,  right  here  in  Acme 
—  and  everywhere  else,  I  reckon.  Some  day  you 
can  tell  me  all  about  it.  Finish  your  breakfast  now. 
Claire's  waiting  to  take  you  for  a  ride." 

True  enough,  she  was  —  in  a  long,  low,  vicious 
looking  racer,  her  bright  hair  topped  by  a  boy's 
leather  cap.  Away  we  sailed,  into  the  brightest, 
softest  April  morning  I  have  ever  seen ! 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  Acme  —  beautiful  houses 
with  flowery  lawns,  crowded  city  streets,  sky- 
scrapers, too,  and  noisy  whirring  of  the  wheels  of 
trade. 

And,  oh,  the  bloom  and  green  glory  of  the  country 
ways !  But  no  sea !  When  I  asked  Claire  about  the 
gulf,  she  laughed.  "  The  whole  State  is  between  us 
and  the  sea !  "  she  said. 

Spring  is  in  full  tide.  The  sky  is  like  an  unfurled 
iris,  the  sunlight  dazzling  and  already  warm. 

"  How  beautifully  you  drive ! "  I  said,  for  Claire 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

had  guided  the  long-nosed  racer  through  the  crowded 
traffic  with  an  almost  uncanny  dexterity. 

She  turned  her  eyes  to  mine.  They  were  just  the 
iris-blue  of  the  sky,  and  her  hair,  blowing  beneath 
her  boy's  cap,  was  like  sunlight.  She  was  a  verita- 
ble incarnation  of  the  April  day. 

"  I  love  the  car,"  she  answered.  "  It's  all  that 
reconciles  me  to  the  town." 

"  Don't  you  like  Acme  ?  "  I  asked. 

She  turned  into  a  country  lane. 

"How  should  I  like  it?"  she  said.  "We  don't 
belong  here.  Mamma  tries  to  fit  us  in.  She  sent 
me  away  first,  and  had  me  polished,  as  she  calls  it  — 
but  they  merely  rubbed  the  skin  off  me  until  I  feel 
more  than  ever  — " 

She  stopped.  "  They  do  nothing  but  laugh  at  us 
here,"  she  added  bitterly.  "  You'll  see." 

"  But  how  could  anybody  laugh  at  you?  "  I  ven- 
tured. 

"  Oh,  not  at  me,  perhaps.  It's  Dad  they  laugh 
at,  and  Mamma.  Only  Mamma  won't  see.  I  can't 
do  anything  with  her.  That's  why  I  persuaded  her 
to  send  for  you.  You'll  keep  her  from  doing  the 
ridiculous  thing,  I  believe.  But  nobody  can  manage 
Dad  and  Grandma.  And  we  all  hate  it  so  here  — 
all  except  Mamma.  Why  I'd  give  the  whole  town 
for  one  day  on  the  ranch  —  one  day." 

I  was   brooding  rather  uncomfortably   over  this 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          115 

new  responsibility  connected  with  Mrs.  Razor,  but  I 
managed  to  say,  "  Still  you  have  the  car." 

"  You  ought  to  see  Florita ! "  she  flashed  at  me. 
"  She's  better  than  any  car.  To  feel  her  breathing 
and  bounding  beneath  you,  with  the  world  stretched 
out  before  you  and  the  wind  in  your  face  — "  She 
threw  back  her  head,  drawing  a  deep  breath.  "  All 
the  time  I  was  at  school,  I  lived  only  to  get  back  — 
And  now  — " 

"  But  why  don't  you  go  back?  "  I  asked  as  she 
stopped. 

She  did  not  answer  at  first,  then  she  said,  "  They've 
sold  it  —  the  ranch.  They  think  I  don't  know  — 
but  I  do.  Poor  Dad !  "  She  turned  to  me,  laugh- 
ing and  blinking.  "  You  see,  so  long  as  we  kept  it, 
he'd  sneak  off  and  go  back.  It  was  in  the  nature 
of  a  dissipation.  Mamma  said  he'd  never  grow  citi- 
fied so  long  as  he  kept  hobnobbing  with  cows  and 
canyons.  So  she  worked  it.  It's  gone.  She  said 
very  little  about  me,  but  I  know  I  was  another  reason 
for  selling  it.  I  hope  you'll  get  to  see  it.  It's  the 
prettiest  ranch  in  the  whole  country.  Theodore  has 
made  it  famous  with  his  dug-out.  He  planted  a 
wilderness  of  flowers  about  it  —  and  flowers  aren't 
common  on  ranches." 

I  asked  to  meet  Theodore,  having  many  messages 
for  him,  and  we  entered  the  home  grounds  by  way  of 
the  gardener's  lodge,  a  quaint  little  bungalow,  built 


116          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

of  the  same  stone  as  the  great  house  proper,  and 
nestling  in  a  field  of  larkspurs.  A  woman  opened 
the  door  as  we  approached,  and  laid  a  sleeping  baby 
in  its  little  cart. 

"  Good  morning,  Bess,"  said  Claire.  "  Where's 
Theodore?" 

"  In  the  green-houses,"  answered  the  woman, 
lightly  joggling  the  cart. 

"  So  Theodore's  married,"  I  said,  as  we  rode  on. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  He  married  a  nester's  daughter  —  a 
squatter,  that  is  —  shortly  after  he  came  to  us. 
Look!" 

For  like  a  flock  of  startled  butterflies,  four  cropped 
yellow  heads  rose  from  amid  the  larkspurs  and  dis- 
appeared behind  the  house. 

"  Wild  as  rabbits,"  smiled  Claire.  "  Born  in  the 
dug-out,  you  know.  Never  used  to  see  a  soul." 

"  Theodore's  babies  ?  "  I  asked.  I  was  thinking, 
"  Rebecca's  cousins !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Claire.  "  And  all  named  for  flowers. 
Rose,  and  Violet,  and  Mignonette." 

"  Good  there  wasn't  a  boy,"  I  said. 

"  The  oldest  is  a  boy.     Sweet  William." 

At  the  green-house  we  met  Theodore,  a  sturdy, 
strapping  lad,  with  stubbly  beard  and  eyes  like  Re- 
becca's. He  must  have  married  while  still  in  kinder- 
garten; judging  by  his  progeny!  I  gave  him  Mrs. 
Hardy's  remembrances  and  told  him  about  Rebecca's 
marriage. 


117 

He  seemed  gratified  to  learn  of  their  removal  to 
San  Francisco.  "  I  been  there,"  he  said. 

"  How  well  the  red  plumbago  looks ! "  said  Claire. 
Then,  to  me,  "  Theodore's  a  wizard  when  it  comes  to 
flowers." 

The  boy  did  not  disclaim  this  title. 

"  Seems  like  they  laugh,"  he  said,  "  when  I  come 
'round." 

He  gathered  a  golden  tulip  and  gave  it  to  me. 

It  did  seem  to  be  laughing,  really ! 

I  have  written  to  Rebecca.  How  she  will  smile  at 
the  thought  of  Sweet  William ! 

April  6th 

Last  night  I  dreamed  that  I  had  climbed  onto  a 
high  place  and  jumped.  The  high  place  was  a  towea 
builded  of  Dicky's  blocks.  It  leaned  with  my  weight 
like  the  tower  of  Pisa.  When  I  jumped  it  sprang 
straight,  and  I  landed  —  in  a  big  soft  bed  with  a 
pink  canopy!  I  was  broad  awake  and  Claire  was 
humming  softly  in  the  next  room.  She  hushed  as 
soon  as  I  stirred. 

April  7th 
This  morning  Mrs.  Culpepper  —  that's  the  deaf 

old  lady,  Mrs.  Razor's  mother  —  came  into  my  room, 

leading  almost  by  force,  a  half  grown  boy,  with  a 

shock  of  light  hair  and  a  very  red  face. 

"  Andy,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  meet  Mrs.  Ballen- 

tyne." 


118          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

A  blundering  hand-shake  followed. 

"  I  told  him,"  explained  Mrs.  Culpepper,  "  that 
ef  he'd  come  up  and  git  acquainted,  he'd  not  be  so 
skeered.  He's  been  eatin'  in  the  kitchen  ever 
sence  — " 

Andy  made  a  lurch  toward  the  door. 

"  None  o'  that ! "  said  Mrs.  Culpepper,  lurching 
with  him.  "  It's  like  hosses,"  she  explained  to  me. 
"  Let  'em  git  a  good  look  at  what  skeers  'em,  and 
they  go  past  all  right.  Now  look  at  Mrs.  Ballen- 
tyne,  Andy.  Look  at  her." 

But  poor  Andy  gazed  only  at  the  rug,  his  blush 
exploring  the  very  depths  of  his  hair.  I  felt  almost 
as  unhappy  as  he.  Never  before  had  I  beheld  a 
young  man  so  forcibly  dragged  to  my  feet.  That 
is,  if  any  had  felt  such  aversion  he  had  evinced  less 
candor.  But  I  managed  to  say, 

"  I  think  we'll  get  on  all  right,  Andy.  Can  you 
drive  the  racer?  " 

"  Naw.  Claire's  put  a  queer-ino  on  it."  But  he 
had  lifted  his  eyes.  They  shone. 

"  I'll  fix  it,"  I  said  confidently.  "  I  want  to  ride 
with  you." 

We  were  obliged  to  repeat  these  remarks  into  Mrs. 
Culpepper's  trumpet,  and  she  presently  went  out, 
leading  Andy. 

Claire  and  I  have  been  answering  invitations.  Eas- 
ter week  promises  to  be  gay.  Mrs.  Razor,  more- 
over, is  fermenting  with  prospects  of  a  party  on  her 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          119 

own  score.  "  I  want  to  give  something  new,"  she 
said  to  me.  "  What  have  you  been  to  lately  in  New 
York?" 

I  could  think  of  nothing  more  recent  than  Mrs. 
Vervaine's  cotillion,  and  I  described  that  function  to 
her,  thankful  that  I  had  had  an  intimate  fore-knowl- 
edge of  the  favors  and  figures. 

"  We'll  give  a  cotillion,"  said  Mrs.  Razor. 

Mr.  Razor  has  gone  to  the  ranch.  I  think  his  visit 
has  something  to  do  with  the  recent  sale. 

I  know  only  that  both  Claire  and  her  father  seem 
depressed. 

April  8th 

Said  Mrs.  Razor  to  me  to-day,  "  The  man  tells  me 
you  haven't  finished  unpacking,  so  he  can't  take  your 
trunks  down." 

I  explained  that  I  had  not  intended  entirely  to 
unpack. 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Because  —  some  of  them  —  hardly  seem  —  My 
clothes,  I  mean  — " 

"Well?"     She  sat  down. 

Claire  was  waiting,  too,  standing  in  the  door  that 
leads  into  her  room. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Razor,  "  that  they 
don't  seem  like  the  kind  of  things  a  secretary  ought 
to  wear?  Well,  I  want  it  understood,  here  and  now, 
you  ain't  no  ordinary  secretary.  The  Razors  ain't 


120          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

doin'  things  in  an  ordinary  way,  and  the  sooner  Acme 
finds  it  out,  the  better."  She  rose.  "  Unpack  every- 
thing you've  got.  Every  smidgeon.  Claire,  ring  for 
M'ree  to  help  her.  Here,  M'ree,  unpack  this  lady's 
trunk.  I  want  to  pick  out  what  she's  to  wear  Thurs- 
day night." 

She  finally  chose  a  dress  of  rosy  silk  with  golden 
butterflies  tangled  in  its  veiling  of  misty  lace.  It  is 
an  imported  thing,  an  actual  bit  of  poetry.  Ninon 
had  said  a  princess  wanted  it. 

Mrs.  Razor  patted  my  shoulder. 

"  We'll  catch  a  heart-healer  in  that  I  "  she  said. 
"  Now  —  now,  don't  feel  hurt !  There's  lots  of  good 
catches  in  Acme.  Already,  that  young  Jordan  — 
one  of  the  best  —  saw  you  out  ridin'  yesterday  with 
Claire,  and  asked  to  call." 

And  she  stalked  out,  beaming,  while  Marie  hung 
the  pink  dress  carefully  away. 

April  9th 

We  have  spent  this  golden  Sunday  addressing  in- 
vitations to  the  cotillion.  Poor  Andy  has  been  all 
day  in  the  library  licking  flaps !  I  heard  him  say 
to  Claire, 

"  What  you  going  to  gimme  for  this  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  she  hedged. 

"Lemme  take  Miss  Ballentyne  out  in  the  racer," 
he  answered. 

"  You'd    better     say    Mrs.,"     corrected     Claire. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          121 

"  She'll  call  you  down,  if  you  don't.  You'd  think  to 
hear  her  pronounce  it,  that  nobody  ever  was  a  Mrs. 
before." 

"What  makes  you  so  spiteful?"  asked  Andy. 
"  Maybe  you'll  draw  that  title  —  yet." 

"  You  shall  never  drive  the  racer !  "  cried  Claire. 

"  All  right.  I'll  mail  no  more  letters  either,"  re- 
torted Andy. 

There  was  silence. 

April  10th 

Jeremiah! 

It  began  like  this.  Mrs.  Razor  came  into  my 
room,  looked  all  about,  shut  both  the  doors  and 
locked  them.  Then  she  sat  down. 

"  There's  something  I  must  explain,  Mrs.  Ballen- 
tyne,"  she  said.  "  Claire'll  be  in  to  see  you  pretty 
soon,  herself,  and  you  mustn't  let  on  —  If  she  senses 
I've  spoken  to  you  — " 

I  nodded  my  vow  to  keep  the  interview  quite  dark, 
and  she  went  on  more  confidently. 

"  Claire  thinks  I  don't  see,  and  I'm  determined 
this  thing  shall  end  in  the  right  way.  You  see 
Claire's  blunt,  just  like  I  told  you  —  and  when  a 
girl's  in  love,  she  acts  extra  queer.  Maybe  you 
remember  how  it  was,  yourself.  Anyhow,  Claire 
must  encourage  the  man  more,  or  she'll  come  to  grief. 
...  I  never  saw  a  more  elegant  man  —  a  real  south- 
ern gentleman.  You'll  say  so  yourself,  when  you 


122          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

meet  him  Thursday  night.  And,  for  him,  the  sun 
lit'rally  rises  and  sets  in  Claire.  The  things  he 
does  to  be  close  to  her!  Do  you  know  he's  actually 
bought  the  ranch  to  keep  somebody  from  taking  it 
away  from  her?  /  didn't  know  who  was  a-buyin' 
it,  and  neither  did  she.  He  bought  it  through  an 
agent.  Now  the  last  time  he  was  here  she  played 
the  indifferent  so  far  that  the  man  got  downright 
disheartened  and  went  off  and  took  up  with  a  female 
—  an  actress.  She  inveegled  him  into  a  real  mar- 
riage, too,  bless  you !  But  afterwards  the  scales  fell 
off  his  sight  and  he  got  a  divorce.  The  woman's 
hopped  off  to  Asia  Minor  or  somewhere,  and  back 
he's  come  here,  like  I  say, —  buyin'  the  ranch.  Out 
there,  now,  he  is  —  fixin'  up  the  abstract  with  Lem- 
uel. It's  high  time  for  Claire  to  show  her  real  feel- 
in's  a  little,  don't  you  think?  " 

"  But  perhaps  she's  disgusted  with  his  — " 

"  Divorce  ?  Why,  honey,  no !  Get  that  nonsense 
out  of  your  head.  I  told  you  —  didn't  I  ?  —  there 
was  lots  of  that  sort  of  thing  goin'  on.  Divorce  is 
like  marriage,  child.  It's  necessary  for  purposes  of 
honesty." 

"  I  didn't  mean  that.  I  was  thinking  that  per- 
haps his  fickleness  has  shown  her  that  he  is  too  easily 
consoled." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  think  it's  opened  her  eyes  to  her 
own  foolishness.  If  a  man'll  get  married  to  a 
chorus  girl  to  console  himself,  he  might  do  some- 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          123 

thing  real  desperate  another  time.  Besides,  you 
know,  he  wasn't  consoled." 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door.  Mrs.  Razor  rose 
to  open  it. 

"  Remember  now,"  she  cautioned.  "  She's  comin' 
in  to  write  him  a  letter  —  and  she's  to  show  him  her 
feelings.  You'll  know  how  much."  And  she  went 
out. 

Claire  came  in,  carrying  her  portfolio  of  mono- 
gramed  paper,  and  sat  down  beside  me  on  the  win- 
dow seat. 

Her  explanation  was  brief  and  tallied  very  lit- 
tle with  her  mother's.  However,  remembering  my  in- 
structions, we  evolved  a  composition  designed  to 
place  a  lady's  heart,  delicately  veiled,  upon  her 
sleeve. 

In  a  postscript  the  enlightened  swain  was  urged 
not  to  forget  the  cotillion  on  next  Thursday  night. 

Claire  added  that  herself. 

"  I'll  go  now  and  copy  it,"  she  said  finally.  "  Then 
I'll  bring  it  to  you  to  look  over." 

True  to  her  word,  she  presently  returned,  and  laid 
the  completed  document  in  my  hand. 

But  I  got  no  further  than  the  envelope  in  which 
it  was  encased. 

There  I  stopped  and  I  think  I  went  white.  It 
bore  the  name  of  Mr.  Dudley  Richardson  Holt. 


XI 

I  am  going  away. 

April  12th 

On  second  thoughts  I  have  decided  to  stay. 

If,  after  all,  I  came  between  these  two  —  I,  the 
female  who  has  gone  to  Asia  Minor !  —  was  it  not 
destined,  perhaps,  that  I  should  come  here  and  re- 
unite them?  If  he  loves  Claire,  as  her  mother  says, 
he  shall  have  her. 

At  least  Mrs.  Razor  has  received  one  pearl  of 
truth  in  all  the  trashy  account  of  his  marriage: 
He  was  inveigled  into  it. 

But  I  shall  not  go  down  to-morrow  night.  I  could 
not  bear  to  meet  him  in  all  that  crowd. 

April  13th 

There  seems  to  be  no  way  out  of  it. 
I  must  go  down. 

I  promised  Claire  I  would  help  care  for  the  guests, 
and  Mrs.  Razor  expects  me  to  steal  out  to  the  kitchen 
when  the  time  comes,  and  direct  the  exodus  of  re- 
freshments. 

124, 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          125 

"  I  want  everything  carried  on  in  New  York  style," 
she  explained. 

And  then,  too,  I  am  curious  to  know  what  his  face 
will  be  like  when  he  sees  Claire  again. 

I  believe  I  shall  know  that  minute  if  he  really 
loves  her.  And  —  for  purposes  of  psychological  ex- 
periment, as  the  science  teacher  used  to  say  —  I 
should  like  to  watch  what  he  does  when  he  sees  me. 

Later 

A  tap  at  my  door  just  now  and  there  stood  Andy 
with  a  package.  On  a  nest  of  white  satin  lay  a  lit- 
tle Juliet  cap  of  pink  sapphires.  "  For  to-night," 
said  the  card.  "  From  Claire." 

Night 

I  cannot  go  down. 

I  am  all  dressed  —  I  think,  perhaps,  I  dressed  too 
early  —  and  I  am  writing  to  keep  my  hands  from 
fidgeting. 

He  is  here  —  here  m  this  house. 

Oh,  I  know  my  little  tape-line  would  go  around 
the  earth  —  easily !  Surely  it  is  the  very  tiniest  of 
all  those  stars  that  strew  the  great,  dim  vault  out 
there ! 

An  hour  ago  I  heard  his  voice  in  the  hall. 

It  was  then  half-past  seven,  and  he  and  Mr.  Razor 
were  coming  upstairs.  They  had  just  got  in. 

The  voice  said,  "  Which  way,  Mrs.  Razor?  " 


126          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

For  a  minute  I  felt  as  if  she  had  motioned  him  to 
my  room  where  I  sat  at  the  dressing-table,  brushing 
my  hair. 

But  after  a  moment  a  door  closed  down  the  hall, 
and  I  heard  Mrs.  Razor  tell  Marie  that  Mr.  Holt 
would  remain  the  week-end. 

The  carriages  are  still  arriving,  automobiles  of 
every  size  and  sound.  They  come  in  at  either  of  the 
great  stone  gates,  pass  the  fountain,  and  disappear 
as  they  reach  the  steps  where  liveried  footmen  wait 
to  receive  their  occupants. 

How  beautifully  these  women  dress!  More  beau- 
tifully and  more  lavishly  than  those  in  New  York. 
My  door  is  open  and  they  pass  now  and  then  on 
their  way  to  the  dressing-room,  beautifully  gowned, 
beautifully  coiffured,  gracious,  radiant  — 

I  am  wondering  how,  having  met  the  women  of 
all  lands,  he  should  have  consented,  even  under  stress, 
to  marry  me.  .  .  . 


April 

Someone  was  knocking  at  my  door. 

"  Come  in  !  "  I  said. 

It  was  Claire.  Lovely  indeed,  she  looked,  with  her 
shimmering  hair  and  her  turquoise-colored  gown. 

Behind  her  gloomed  Andy,  encased  in  his  best 
clothes. 

"  The  music  has  started  !  "  cried  Claire. 
"Hurry!" 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          127 

Then  suddenly,  "  Oh,  Zoe !  How  beautiful  —  how 
beautiful  you  are !  " 

"  You're  a  —  melon !  "  remarked  Andy. 

"  It's  the  Juliet  cap,"  I  answered.  And  I  thanked 
her  for  it,  then  and  there. 

"  No,  it's  your  arms,"  she  said.  "  They  are  — 
adorable.  Turn  around  —  one  of  your  butterflies  is 
loose.  There !  Come  now !  Hear  the  music !  " 

And  that  was  how  I  went  — •  nerved  by  their 
praises,  bless  their  kind,  frank  hearts ! 

Andy  mumbled  at  the  door.     I  bent  my  ear  down. 

"  Gimme  the  first  extra,"  he  repeated. 

I  promised.  The  cotillion  was  not  to  begin  until 
after  supper. 

Andy  disappeared  and  Claire  and  I  passed  down 
the  grand  stair,  descending  into  the  hall  where  the 
guests  were  gathering. 

And  there  at  the  foot  of  the  stair,  Tie  was  stand- 
ing, talking  with  a  woman  who  laughed  up  into  his 
face. 

Something  she  said  caused  him  to  turn,  and  he 
looked  straight  at  us.  I  saw  his  face  whiten  and 
change,  then  quickly  he  smiled,  nodding  in  answer  to 
the  woman. 

"  Yes,  very  pretty,"  he  said.  "  Very  pretty,  in- 
deed." And  he  came  forward  at  once,  receiving 
Claire's  outstretched  hand,  and  looking  inquiringly 
toward  me.  It  was  the  look  of  a  man  who  awaits  an 
introduction. 


128          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  Mrs.  Ballentyne,  Mr.  Holt,"  pronounced  Claire, 
and  we  shook  hands. 

He  took  some  dances  with  Claire  —  I  couldn't  see 
how  many  —  and  then  he  inquired,  "  Are  you  danc- 
ing to-night,  Mrs.  .  .  .  Ballentyne?  " 

I  decided  to  dance. 

He  took  the  seventh  —  a  waltz.  Then  bowing 
to  the  correct  degree  of  courteous  gratitude,  he 
moved  away,  for  sundry  cavaliers  were  beginning  to 
surge  toward  the  spot. 

It  was  not  the  way  the  scene  would  have  been 
managed  had  I,  and  not  a  Fate,  careless  of  detail, 
been  in  control.  I  should  have  gone  up  to  him, 
looked  into  his  face  with  a  look  that  he  alone  would 
have  understood,  and  taking  Claire's  hand,  have  laid 
it  in  his  with  a  gesture  of  calm  and  complete  sur- 
render. Then  I  should  have  explained  to  the  won- 
dering Claire  just  who  and  what  I  was.  However, 
I  didn't  think  of  this  in  time,  and  besides  the  crowded 
hall  made  such  an  act  impossible.  I  might  have  ar- 
ranged for  it  later,  but  his  surprising  sang  froid 
had  befuddled  my  ideas.  Other  people's  serenity  is 
always  upsetting  to  our  own.  I  think  the  shock  of 
his  lack  of  shock  was  what  confused  me  into  giving 
him  that  dance. 

I  decided  straightway  that  I  would  hide  in  the  con- 
servatory when  the  seventh  waltz  started.  .  .  . 

"  I  beg  your  pardon !  " 

A  nice  blond  boy  was  reaching  for  my  programme. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          129 

He  had  been  introduced  and  I  had  consented  to 
dance  with  him,  all  the  while  I  was  planning  to  escape 
from  that  seventh  waltz.  There  were  four  others 
looking  over  his  shoulder,  and  I  realized  that  they, 
too,  had  been  severally  presented  and  were  doing  their 
duties  in  requesting  the  honor  of  a  turn.  I  gave 
my  programme  to  the  one  in  the  middle  and  let  them, 
settle  it  among  themselves.  And  Claire  continued 
to  present,  and  they  continued  to  request,  until  it 
seemed  to  me  for  a  while  that  the  world  was  noth- 
ing but  a  succession  of  dress  suits  and  white  ties 
with  an  occasional  gardenia.  Then  finally,  they  all 
got  through  and  I  walked  off  with  a  gentleman  so 
tall  that  I  had  to  lean  my  head  at  right  angles  to 
my  spine  to  hear  what  he  said.  I  chanced  shortly 
to  look  at  my  programme  and  found  it  so  scratched 
and  clawed  and  x'd  that  I  decided  I'd  have  to  trust 
to  Providence  to  separate  the  signers  into  individ- 
uals. Nothing  was  legible  on  the  whole  card  ex- 
cept the  name  written  after  the  seventh  dance. 

I  was  threading  the  mazes  of  the  Grand  March 
with  the  tall  man.  Claire  was  leading  with  a  dark 
young  person  whom  they  called  "  Brett."  Brett 
Jordan,  I  learned  his  name  was.  Mr.  Holt  I  saw 
standing  apart,  in  the  company  of  a  white-haired 
lady  in  silver  brocade.  The  ranch  has  browned  him, 
and  he  seems,  somehow,  ruggeder. 

As  we  passed,  an  electric  look  flashed  between  him 
and  Claire.  Claire  smiled  and  moved  on,  her  face 


130 

shining.  She  seemed,  now,  to  be  treading  on  rosy 
clouds,  her  gaze  fixed  on  the  bright  open  door  of  a 
star. 

The  tall  man  caught  me  about  the  waist  and  we 
stepped  into  the  heart  of  the  dance. 

Then  one  after  another,  the  men  came  for  me, 
being  able  to  read  their  own  programmes.  And 
they  asked  me  about  New  York  —  most  of  them 
know  it  as  well  as  I  do  —  and  how  I  liked  it  here, 
and  had  I  been  out  to  El  Leona  —  which  is  the 
name  of  the  ranch  —  and  wouldn't  I  like  some  punch. 

And  then  we  would  dance  some  more,  and  chat 
some  more,  and  visit  the  punch  which  was  very  mild, 
and  supplemented  by  certain  bottles  which  the  black 
boy,  Sam,  handed  over  the  smilax-draped  table  to 
any  gentleman  who  even  hinted  a  preference  for  the 
fountain  undefiled.  And  then,  after  a  time,  came 
the  seventh  dance.  I  had  kept  an  accurate  account 
of  the  numbers,  and  I  said  to  the  young  man  —  it 
happened  to  be  Mr.  Brett  Jordan  —  that  I  had  some- 
thing to  see  to  in  the  conservatory.  The  musicians 
were  hidden  there,  and  I  did  actually  stop  at  their 
corner  and  say  something  about  playing  that  lovely 
•Mexican  thing  again. 

Then  I  slipped  behind  a  palm  and  sat  down  on 
a  bench.  But  I  was  not  alone.  Mrs.  Culpepper 
was  there,  all  in  lilac  satin  and  point  de  Venise,  with 
her  shoes  off.  Her  trumpet  was  turned  toward  the 
musicians. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          131 

"  Howdy,  honey?  "  she  said  pleasantly.  "  I  come 
in  here  to  ketch  the  music.  It's  so  bothersome 
watchin'  'em  dance  and  not  hearin'  nothing.  Ah, 
now !  There  comes  Mr.  Holt !  He's  what  I  call  a 
handsome  man." 

There  was  a  door  just  behind  us,  and,  having  mur- 
mured my  adieux  to  the  trumpet,  I  made  my  exit 
thereby. 

It  led  into  a  back  stairway  which  communicated 
with  the  main  flight  at  the  first  landing.  At  this 
eminence  I  paused  and  looked  down  upon  the  scene 
in  the  hall. 

What  I  beheld  turned  my  terror  into  profound 
amazement.  I  saw  Mr.  Holt  come  in,  look  all  about, 
speak  a  hurried  word  to  Claire,  who  was  flitting  by, 
then  turn  agreeably  and  proffer  his  arm  to  a  lady 
in  a  twinkling  pink  dress.  It  was  the  lady  who  had 
laughed  up  into  his  face. 

They  passed  into  the  ball  room. 

I  made  my  way  to  my  room  and  sat  down. 

I  opened  you  up,  Jeremiah,  and  thought  I  would 
work  off  my  feelings  by  telling  you  about  the  deco- 
rations. 

Of  course  what  Mr.  Holt  had  done  could  make  no 
difference  to  me.  I  was  merely  puzzled. 

However,  at  that  minute  Andy  came  in.  I  had 
seen  him  sitting  alone  on  the  landing  as  I  came  up- 
stairs. At  my  invitation  he  sat  down  in  the  wicker 
rocker. 


132 

"What  you  doing  here?"  he  asked  presently,  in 
his  shy,  husky  voice. 

"  I'm  tired,"  I  fibbed. 

"  What's  that  book?  "  he  inquired. 

I  laughed.     "  Lamentations  to  Jeremiah,"  I  said. 

He  looked  his  interest.     "  You  writin'  a  Bible  ?  " 

"  No,  Andy,  really.  It's  supposed  to  be  a  Honey- 
moon Journal.  But  I've  never  been  on  a  honey- 
moon." 

"Wouldn't  he  take  you?  Gee!  He  must  have 
been  a  piker !  " 

His  indignation  had  brought  a  clearer  note  to  his 
voice. 

"  Say,"  he  said.  "  Jordan'll  take  you  on  a  honey- 
moon. He  said  so." 

"  That's  nice  of  him,  Andy.  But  I'd  rather  go 
with  you." 

Andy's  eyes  fell. 

"  Claire'll  let  me  take  you  ridin'  in  the  racer,"  he 
compromised,  "  if  you  ask  her." 

I  promised  I  would.     Suddenly  he  rose. 

"  The  music's  stopped,"  he  said.  "  You  got  this 
next  dance?  " 

I  said  that  I  had,  and  began  to  smooth  my  hair  at 
the  mirror. 

"  I  think  you  owe  me  another,"  he  remarked  as 
we  went  down  the  stair. 

"  But  the  first  extra  is  coming,"  I  answered. 
"  And  I  haven't  any  more." 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          133 

Andy  stopped  short. 

"  This  was  the  first  extra ! "  he  shouted. 
"  They're  startin'  the  seventh !  " 

And  there  stood  Mr.  Holt  at  the  foot  of  the  stair ! 
In  a  sort  of  daze  I  went  with  him. 

We  threaded  our  way  slowly  into  the  ball  room, 
and  he  took  me  in  his  arms.  .  .  . 

From  the  conservatory  floated  the  Mexican  waltz, 
dreamful,  tender  and  soft,  now  suddenly  crashing 
sweet,  as  if  in  an  ecstasy  of  untrammeled  joy,  now 
wild  and  mysterious  and  low,  a  tangle  of  minors, 
all  pleading  and  hot  tears,  now  soaring  like  a  tropic 
wind,  up,  up  into  the  clouds,  lost  in  the  blue  spaces 
beyond  the  stars,  now  returning,  fraught  with  the 
wonder  of  heaven,  yet  enamored  still  of  earth,  sink- 
ing asleep  at  last  amid  strange  sea-murmur  and  the 
fragrance  of  roses,  with  an  exquisite,  dying  whisper 
of  Love  —  Love  —  Love! 

I  had  soared  and  sunk  with  the  music,  from  the 
sea-depths  to  the  blue  wild  peaks;  now  glad,  now 
sad,  now  dreamy  with  strange  sorrow,  now  stabbed 
awake  with  keenest  joy,  wondering,  wistful,  unafraid 
—  until  at  last  he  released  me,  and  we  stood  face 
to  face. 

"  Take  me  where  it  is  cool !  "  I  whispered. 

They  were  clapping  all  about  us,  calling  for  an 
encore.  Had  they  not  heard  what  I  heard  in  the 
music?  Could  they  brave  that  delirious  journey 
again  so  soon?  (Ah,  there  is  magic  in  that  Mex- 


134 

lean  music !  I  must  learn  it  and  play  it,  and  sing  it, 
too,  if  there  are  words.) 

He  led  me  to  the  veranda.  A  cool  breeze  was 
blowing  from  the  elm  trees.  The  night  was  all 
about  us,  and  the  stars.  From  the  conservatory 
came  the  reawakened  music  —  a  one-step,  rolick- 
ing,  gleeful,  light  of  heart. 

"  Mrs.  Ballentyne?  "  he  said  to  this  bantering  ac- 
companiment. "  Is  that  what  I  am  to  under- 
stand? " 

I  nodded  quickly.  "  I  came  here,"  I  said,  "  be- 
cause it  was  an  opening  —  all  I  had.  I  had  no  idea 
that  you  — " 

"  I  understand,"  he  answered.  "  And  you 
wish  — "  He  waited. 

"  They  know  I  am  married,"  I  said,  "  but  not 
to  whom.  Neither  of  us  is  bound.  You  remember 
that?" 

I  spoke  hurriedly,  fearing  an  interruption. 

"  I  remember  perfectly,"  he  answered. 

Then  the  interruption  came.  The  nice  blond 
young  man  walked  directly  up  to  us  in  the  dark  and 
said, 

"  No  escape,  Mrs.  Ballentyne.  I  saw  you  when 
you  came." 

So  the  three  of  us  went  into  the  hall  together. 

Near  the  door  a  group  was  chatting  casually. 

"  Some  party !  "  one  of  them  remarked  —  a  large, 


FROM  THE  CONSERVATORY  FLOATED 
THE  MEXICAN  WALTZ,  DREAMY, 
TENDER  AND  SOFT. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          135 

flushed  man  to  whom  I  had  seen  Sam  passing  bottles. 
"  Well  put  on." 

"  Influence  of  the  new  secretary,  no  doubt,"  said 
another. 

"Who  is  she?" 

The  blond  young  man  had  trodden  on  my  dress 
and  I  was  forced  to  delay  until  the  answer  came.  A 
woman  gave  it. 

"  She's  a  little  grass  widow  from  New  York." 

"  Deuced  pretty  girl,"  said  the  man  of  the  bot- 
tles. 

The  blond  boy's  arm  tightened  on  mine.  He 
glared  at  the  group,  but  none  of  them  saw  us. 

Mr.  Holt  closed  the  door  behind  us  and  remained 
on  the  piazza. 

(So,  in  spite  of  the  "  Mrs.,"  I  am  shorn  of  a  hus- 
band!) 

I  whirled  through  two  more  dances  and  then  went 
out  with  Mrs.  Razor.  She  had  tied  a  checked  apron 
over  her  velvet  gown  and,  together,  we  superintended 
the  machinery  of  supper.  The  caterer  was  in  a 
state  of  some  agitation  and  received  us  gratefully. 
Afterwards  I  assorted  favors  for  the  coming  cotil- 
lion, and  gave  some  instructions  to  the  musicians 
about  the  order  of  figures.  Then  I  went  out  to  be 
alone  on  the  east  veranda. 

The  late  moon  was  rising,  all  lop-sided,  as  if  he 
had  been  detained  below  by  some  dread  encounter. 


136          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

He  lit  up  two  figures  sitting  near  the  last  column. 
They  were  talking,  and  the  woman  said,  "  If  you 
knew  what  it  has  been  —  since  you  left ! "  Thd 
voice  was  Claire's,  and  it  trembled. 

The  man  spoke  after  a  pause.  "  But  you  promise 
me  to  wait  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  said.     "  I  promise." 

He  leaned  over  and  took  her  hand,  pressing  it 
long. 

His  face  came  full  into  the  moonlight. 

It  was  Mr.  Holt. 

I  turned  my  eyes  away. 

The  music  woke  in  the  conservatory,  and  presently 
they  rose,  leaving  the  remnant  of  their  supper  on 
the  rustic  table,  the  glasses  glittering  beneath  the 
moon. 

I  shrank  into  the  shadow  and  they  passed  in  silence. 

At  the  door  Claire  turned  and  looked  at  her  com- 
panion. The  hall  light  showed  me  her  face  with  a 
smile  on  her  lips  and  the  tears  brimming  in  her  eyes. 

The  cotillion  went  in  a  slow,  dizzying  whirl. 

I  found  myself  often  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Jor- 
Idan  and  the  blond  young  man.  I  did  not  see  Mr. 
Holt. 

After  a  long  while  I  was  in  my  room,  listening 
to  the  out-going  motors,  and  the  laughter  of  throngs 
dissolving  in  the  halls.  Then  came  stillness,  lonely 
and  profound,  the  stillness  that  follows  a  party. 

I  sat  in  the  dark  and  thought  of  the  night  of  my 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          137 

wedding.  Then,  gradually,  I  undressed  and  crept 
into  bed.  My  windows  were  open  and  the  moon  was 
singing  his  way  across  the  sky.  All  hammered,  all 
lop-sided,  he  was,  but  plowing  along  just  the  same. 

Softly  my  inner  door  opened,  and  a  slim  figure 
in  a  long  pink  night-slip  stole  into  the  room.  It 
was  Claire.  She  drew  my  covers  down  and  crept 
into  bed  with  me.  There,  she  laid  her  head  on  my 
shoulder  and  began  softly,  suppressedly,  to  sob, 
clinging  to  my  arm.  I  laid  my  other  arm  about  her. 

"  I  am  so  happy !  "  she  breathed. 

The  broken  moon  sang  itself  out  of  sight.  A  cold 
wind  came  in  at  the  open  windows,  a  small,  shiver- 
ing wind,  like  a  little  ghost  creeping  back  from  the 
world's  edge  because  it  is  afraid. 

Claire  stirred  and  sat  upright. 

"  I  will  go,"  she  whispered.     "  You  must  sleep." 

And  when  she  had  slipped  from  the  bed,  she  bent 
over  me  and  left  a  shy,  quick  kiss  on  my  cheek. 
Then  her  bare  feet  stole  across  the  room  and  she 
was  gone.  I  must  have  slept  at  last  for  I  dreamed 
that  I  was  trying  hard,  hard,  to  climb  back  on  the 
tower  of  Dicky's  blocks  which  had  straightened  and 
grown  tall.  But  waves  and  sharp  rocks  were  about 
its  base  and  when  I  essayed  to  mount,  they  buffeted 
me  and  bruised  my  knees.  My  hands  slipped  on  the 
wet,  smooth  sides  and  in  my  useless  struggles  I  cried 
out,  "  Aunt  Emmeline,  why  did  you  build  so  high  ?  " 

He  is  sleeping  down  the  hall,  two  doors  from  me. 


138          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

This  little  ghost  of  a  wind  is  stealing  in  at  his  win- 
dow, is  tip-toeing  about  his  room,  bringing  him 
dreams  —  happier  ones,  I  hope,  than  it  has  brought 
to  me.  I  hear  it  in  Claire's  room,  too,  the  little 
wind,  stirring  the  forgotten  programme  on  the 
floor. 

"  Ich  weis  nicht  wass  soil  es  bedeuten  .  .  ." 

Is  widowhood  a  mockery  when  it  is  life  who  robs 
us  instead  of  death? 

Straw  widows,  you  are  well  named ! 

Like  grass  have  your  hopes  been  trodden  under- 
foot. 

Like  grass  have  you  been  bowed  by  strange  winds 
and  scorched  by  bitter  suns,  till  life  was  burned  out 
of  your  hearts  and  mowing  time  seemed  sweet ! 

I,  who  have  not  known  the  flowering,  nor  the  com- 
ing of  the  breeze,  nor  sun,  nor  rain,  I  give  myself, 
also,  to  the  reaping. 

The  dawn  is  reddening  in  the  east  .  .  .  faintly, 
at  first,  now  rosily  .  .  .  now  redly,  redly,  like  an 
awakening  heart  .  .  .  like  a  heart  stirring  softly 
with  life  .  .  .  throbbing,  pulsing,  conscious  of  fire. 

And  out  of  the  dawn  comes  a  Voice  .  .  .  still  and 
small  ...  a  voice  crying,  "  Thou  Fool!  " 


XII 

rAprU  15th 

Andy  and  I  have  been  riding  in  the  racer.  We 
were  caught  in  a  rain  storm  and  got  soggy  wet.  The 
family  met  us  on  our  return,  showering  poor  Andy 
with  invectives  and  pushing  me  upstairs  to  change 
my  clothes. 

On  the  second  floor,  face  to  face,  I  met  Mr.  Holt. 

"  What  ever  — "  he  began.  Then  he  stopped. 
"  Didn't  you  know  it  was  beginning  to  storm  ?  Do 
you  realize  what  storms  in  this  latitude  may  be? 
And  with  that  boy  — " 

"  The  boy's  not  harmed,"  I  answered,  "  unless  the 
family  kill  him." 

I  tried  to  get  by.  I  felt  dreadfully  slinky  and 
drippy.  He  appeared  to  have  something  to  say  and 
I  broke  in  with  a  quick,  "  I  must  get  out  of  these 
clothes ! " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  at  once !  But  I  may  not 
see  you  again."  He  glanced  about  as  if  to  make 
sure  he  was  not  overheard.  Then,  "  The  deed  to  El 
Leona  ranch  has  been  mailed  to  you  in  New  York. 
It  will  no  doubt  be  forwarded  to  you  here.  Preserve 
it,  please." 

139 


140          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  I  can't  accept  this,"  I  answered.  "  I  have  de- 
cided on  a  complete  divorce.  It  is  only  a  matter  of 
a  little  time." 

"  Even  so,  the  ranch  is  yours.  Indeed,  I  beg  of 
you  not  to  place  me  in  too  undeserved  a  light. 
Something,  I  think,  is  due  my  motives  and  real  at- 
titude." 

I  was  so  taken  back  by  this  point  that  I  managed 
only  a  low,  "  Very  well,"  and  hurried  past  him  to  my 
room.  So  El  Leona  is  mine! 

Suppose  Claire  knew! 

Later 

He  is  leaving  to-morrow. 

They  say  this  Mr.  Brett  Jordan  is  a  lawyer. 

I  shall  consult  him  at  once  about  the  Texas  di- 
vorce laws. 

Surely  a  straw  widow  is  no  sadder  thing  than  a 
straw  marriage ! 

Later 

He  is  leaving,  but  only  to  go  to  the  ranch. 
Claire  has   been  promised   a  house-party   at   El 
Leona  as  a  sort  of  farewell.     She  knows  now  that 
Mr.  Holt  has  bought  the  ranch,  but  none  of  them 
guesses  that  he  has  transferred  the  purchase. 

None  of  them  guesses  anything.  When  I  sit 
with  them  in  his  presence  J  think,  "  We  are  mar- 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          141 

ried,  this  man  and  I.  Can  they  not  see  it  —  feel 
it  ?  "  They  prattle  on,  and  he  never  looks  at  me.  I 
would  give  the  world  for  his  poise,  his  savoir  faire. 

"  No,  sir ! "  said  Mrs.  Razor  at  lunch  to-day, 
when  we  women  sat  alone.  "  I  don't  go  on  this 
party.  I  had  enough  of  the  ranch  in  my  time,  and 
since  Keith's  gone  there's  no  need  of  my  watch-dog- 
ging the  place.  Mrs.  Ballentyne'll  chaperon  you. 
That's  what  she's  here  for." 

I  suppose  Keith  is  one  of  those  ranch  villains  you 
see  in  the  movies.  I  wish  he'd  come  back. 

But  it  does  seem  odd  for  me  to  chapecon  Claire's 
party  at  my  house!  And,  though  I  am  curious  to 
see  El  Leona,  I  wish  it  were  under  other  circum- 
stances. I  don't  want  to  go  in  a  crowd.  I  don't 
want  him  to  be  there.  Mr.  Razor  has  already  gone. 
Theodore  and  Mr.  Holt  follow  to-night.  Their  de- 
parture has  something  to  do  with  Kaffir  corn.  It 
seems  Mr.  Holt  thinks  the  prairies  should  be  planted 
with  food  for  the  cattle.  This,  it  appears,  has  not 
hitherto  been  the  custom,  the  cattle  being  left  to 
graze  on  what  the  gods  provided.  Mr.  Razor  thinks 
this  amazingly  resourceful  of  Mr.  Holt.  I  see  noth- 
ing clever  in  thinking  of  Kaffir  corn.  The  tall  man 
I  met  at  the  dance  is  going.  His  name  is  Graves. 
Likewise,  a  Miss  Burns.  Andy  is  to  accompany  us, 
and  Mr.  Brett  Jordan.  "  I'm  asking  Brett  for 
you,"  said  Claire  to  me.  And,  indeed,  I  was  grate- 


142          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

ful  for  her  forethought.  It  provides  me  ample  op- 
portunity to  consult  with  him  professionally.  We 
leave  to-morrow  night. 

Claire  is  singing  as  she  packs.  I  think  she  has 
forgotten  the  ranch  is  sold. 

Later 

I  went  into  a  music  store  to-day  and  asked  for 
the  Mexican  waltz  that  so  charmed  my  soul.  Not 
until  I  was  well  inside,  and  gazing  into  the  face  of 
the  nice  blond  young  man  I  had  met  that  night, 
did  I  realize  that  the  name  of  the  piece  was  quite  un- 
known to  me. 

No,  he  didn't  remember  it.  They  hadn't  played 
it  while  we  were  dancing,  he  was  sure  of  that.  And, 
by  the  way,  he  had  called,  and  we  were  out,  Miss 
Razor  and  I.  Did  we  get  his  cards?  .  .  .  La  Go- 
londrina,  now  —  or  La  Paloma,  or  Over  the  Waves, 
could  it  have  been  any  of  those? 

He  spoke  the  Spanish  words  beautifully. 

I  shook  my  head.  Then  I  hummed  softly  the 
first  bar  of  the  magic  melody.  Ah,  yes !  He  remem- 
bered now.  To  think  he  could  have  forgotten! 
And  he  murmured  a  name  like  the  murmur  of  water 
under  the  moon. 

"  It  is  pretty,"  he  said.  "  Shall  I  try  it  on  the 
piano  here  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  I  said  quickly,  and,  taking  the 
sheet  of  wonder,  without  permitting  him  to  wrap  it, 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          143 

I  hastened  home.  Not  until  an  hour  ago  had  I  the 
chance  to  slip  off  alone  and  go  over  it. 

It  is  different,  somehow.  The  same  piece,  indeed, 
yet  not  the  same.  There  are  words, —  Spanish 
words,  with  no  translation.  Soft  little  syllables, 
that  it  would  seem  one  could  only  translate  into 
roses. 

I  wish  I  might  stay  here  with  this  little  song! 

Claire  said  to  me  just  now,  "  Zoe,  you'll  like  it 
out  there.  You'll  have  nothing  to  do,  for  positively, 
I'd  hate  anybody  who  tried  to  chaperon  me  on  a 
pony,  and  I  know  you  wouldn't!  Besides,  we'll  get 
out  of  all  these  Easter-lily-teas  and  mayonnaise- 
melees  !  You  ought  to  be  glad  of  that." 

The  deed  to  El  Leona  reached  me  this  afternoon. 
I  tucked  it  in  my  lowest  tray,  among  my  blouses.  I 
felt  like  a  thief. 

April  18th 

What  does  it  mean? 

I  am  all  atingle.     I  cannot  think. 

Yesterday,  while  I  was  writing  —  here  at  this  very 
table  —  I  heard  a  voice  —  a  man's  voice  —  singing. 
Not  singing,  indeed,  but  chanting,  just  a  little  flat. 
And  the  chant  was, 

"  Old  Monza,  Queen  of  Samarcand !  '* 

I  stopped  short.  I  got  up  and  went  to  the  win- 
dow. 


144          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"She  was  a  brave  old  soul! 

She  spanked  her  sons  with  spik-ed  hand, 

And  fed  them  barley  whole! 

And  fed  them  barley  whole  1" 

It  was  Tubby's  voice! 

Jeremiah,  it  was  Tubby's  voice!  Tubby's  very 
voice,  gotten  all  grown  up  and  growlly,  but  flat  as 
ever,  and  twisting  the  last  two  words  into  "  bolly- 
hole,"  just  as  he  used  to  do,  except  now  the  note 
was  veined  with  a  chuckle,  as  if  he  found  a  kind  of 
sport  in  putting  his  big  foot  into  the  old,  old  print 
of  his  baby  shoe. 

But  where  was  he?     Oh,  where  was  he? 

I  wrenched  open  the  window  and  flew  out  on  the 
porch.  The  dying  North  wind  brought  another 
verse,  but  every  minute  growing  fainter,  as  if  the 
singer  were  moving  quickly  away,  I  couldn't  tell 
where ! 

"  The  present  King  of  Saraarcand, 

Is  warrior  to  the  soul! 

For  he  was  spanked  with  spik-ed  hand, 

And  fed  on  bollyhole! 

And  fed  on — " 

I  never  got  the  last  note  at  all ! 

I  raced  through  the  room,  my  heart  clapping  time 
to  my  feet.  I  ran  from  one  hall  window  to  another. 
I  opened  Andy's  door,  without  thinking,  and  searched 
the  terrace  from  his  casement,  and  then,  still  with- 
out thinking  or  pausing,  I  flung  open  the  next  door 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          145 

—  and  stopped  appalled.     It  was  Mr.  Holt's  room. 
But  he  was  not  there. 

"  Thank  heaven ! "  my  heart  breathed.  But  I 
hadn't  courage  left  to  go  across  to  the  window, 
and  somehow,  I  know  it  was  from  that  point  that 
Tubby  disappeared.  For  I  know  it  was  Tubby !  I 
know  ...  I  know! 

April  19th 

Mr.  Holt  has  gone. 

I  had  thought  I  should  be  easier  at  heart  with 
him  away,  but  last  night  was  utterly  sleepless. 
Peace  would  come  in  time,  if  only  I  need  not  see 
him  so  soon  again!  I  cannot  be  myself  when  he  is 
near.  All  the  currents  of  my  life  seem  disturbed  by 
his  presence,  while  he  remains  calm.  It  is  this  farce 
of  a  bondage  that  looms  between  us  like  a  ghost.  He 
waits  for  me  to  dispel  it,  and  has  no  fear.  While  I, 
feeling  the  strange  duty  mine,  grow  bewildered  and 
unnerved.  I  need  to  be  alone  to  do  this  thing. 

But  soon  I  must  see  him  again. 

We  leave  in  an  hour.     And  somewhere  near  here 

—  is  Tubby  !     Somewhere  near !     And  did  you  know, 
oh,  little  friend,  that  with  your  song  all  the  years 
became  for  me  a  shining  path  back  to  our  garden? 
And  all  the  sleeping  holly-hocks  and  long-shattered 
roses  lifted  their  heads  again,  to  linger  a  startled, 
golden  moment,  then  tumble  in  sweet  confusion  of 
dreams  about  my  ears! 


146          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

Ah,  little  friend,  grown  big,  you  weren't  a  passer- 
by, coming  from  anywhere  and  departing  again  into 
the  unknowable?  Say  that  you  weren't!  Say  that 
I  shall  hear  you  again,  and  see  you !  Stay,  stay,  un- 
til I  come  once  more ! 

El  Leona 
April  21st 

I  have  beheld  the  sea!  A  sea  of  plains,  rolling 
in  green  silence,  beneath  a  sky  limitless,  and  jewel- 
blue.  No  break  in  all  that  marvelous  expanse,  save 
at  the  horizon  rim  where  out  of  a  jagged  mountain 
line,  the  Grey  Monarch  rears  his  white  head,  and, 
crouching  beside  him,  clothed  in  green  chaparral, 
looms  El  Leona,  herself,  for  whom  these  bright  bil- 
lows were  named.  At  the  feet  of  the  royal  pair  is 
the  canyon,  flowing  at  this  time  with  murmuring 
water,  though  dry  at  many  seasons,  and  always 
myriad-colored,  as  if  hewn  from  the  heart  of  some 
titanic  gem. 

Can  this  be  mine,  this  Leona,  with  its  eighty  thou- 
sand acres,  its  grazing  herds,  its  boundless  heaven? 
How  can  it  be  mine? 

The  ranch-house  is  roomy  and  queer,  bright  with 
Navajo  rugs,  stocked  with  sleepy-hollow  rockers,  deer 
heads,  plenty  of  books  and  a  big  piano.  It  seems 
that  Mr.  Holt  has  bought  most  of  these  things  him- 
self, intending,  no  doubt,  that  the  future  occupant  of 
the  place  shall  be  content  in  her  retirement  from  the 
world.  And  she  will. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          147 

The  house-keeper  is  a  kindly  soul  —  though  I  sus- 
pect snuff  —  and  the  cow-boys,  I  learn,  have  weekly 
dances.  There  is  even  a  church  for  simple-hearted 
souls  across  the  canyon,  while  all  around  are  the 
broad  prairies,  and  horses  a-plenty ! 

Who  could  be  lonely? 

I  have  excavated  my  black  riding-habit  which  I 
have  not  worn  since  the  days  at  Chenevix,  and  fol- 
lowing Claire's  advice,  I  have  supplanted  the  little 
three-cornered  hat  that  completes  it,  with  a  broad 
gray  sombrero  to  keep  off  the  sun. 

They  have  allotted  to  me  black  Shadow,  a  pony 
easy  to  the  saddle,  fleet-footed  as  the  wind,  soft-eyed 
and  sleek.  I  love  her. 

He  is  not  in  the  house.  When  he  stayed  here 
recently  it  was  at  the  dug-out  where  Theodore  had 
dwelt  with  his  nester  wife.  His  trunks  are  there  still 
and  all  the  impedimenta  of  his  travel.  So  there  he 
has  returned,  taking  Andy  as  room-mate  and  leav- 
ing more  room  for  the  house-party  here. 

I  have  seen  him  once.  He  rode  up  on  Chlorippe, 
a  beautiful  bad  horse,  and  though  I  knew  him 
straightway,  I  felt  a  shock  at  seeing  him  so  changed. 
The  broad  hat,  the  boots  with  spurs:  he  was  so 
brown  and  he  swung  with  such  ease  from  his  saddle : 
but  his  laugh  was  the  same,  and  he  held  out  his 
hand. 

Mr.  Razor,  now  —  A  swallow-tail,  I  had  known, 
was  a  Nessus  shirt  to  Mr.  Razor.  Riding  in  this 


148          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

morning  on  a  brute  that  had  "  warranted  to  kill " 
written  all  over  him,  a  dirt-colored  sombrero  shad- 
ing his  face,  a  bandanna  for  a  bib,  and  spurs  like  cir- 
cular saws,  he  suggested  some  odd  species  of  Peri, 
newly  admitted  to  Paradise.  His  manner  was  no 
longer  shuffling  —  it  was  masterful.  I  can  under- 
stand his  not  suffering  by  the  change.  But  that 
Mr.  Holt  should  become  so  wholly  a  part  of  this  en- 
vironment astounds  me.  He  actually  seems  more 
real.  It  is  as  if  the  perfect  glove  had  fallen  away, 
disclosing  all  at  once  a  hand  of  bronze. 

Miss  Burns  —  Meraud  her  name  is  —  and  the 
tall  Mr.  Graves  have  just  ridden  out.  She  is  a 
pretty  little  thing  with  soft,  sad,  gray  eyes.  Claire 
has  gone  too  —  alone.  Clad  in  a  short  skirt,  her 
bright  hair  shadowed  with  the  inevitable  sombrero, 
mounted  on  her  beloved  Florita,  she  has  already 
traversed,  I  think,  every  relinquished  foot  of  El 
Leona!  I  dare  say  he  is  with  her  now,  for  she  fol- 
lowed the  very  trail  he  took. 

Surely  I  owe  him  swift  freedom  for  all  this  fair 
possession!  I  am  thankful  that  Claire  grieves  less 
for  its  loss. 

Perhaps  he  has  said  to  her,  "  I  will  buy  a  hundred 
thousand  acres  for  you."  Yet  somehow  I  cannot  fit 
him  to  the  words. 

To-day  was  San  Jacinto  day.  They  raised  the 
Texas  flag  above  the  ranch-house. 

Mr.  Jordan  arrives  to-night. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          149 

April  22nd 

Andy  and  I  rose  at  dawn  —  he  had  spent  the  night 
here  —  and  went  for  a  ride  on  horse-back.  We 
climbed  El  Leona  and  looked  down  onto  the  dug- 
out. It  was  only  a  black  speck  in  one  of  the  foot- 
hills, with  all  before  it  dapples  of  red  that  were  roses, 
and  dapples  of  gold  that  were  poppies,  and  indis- 
tinct blurs  of  pink  and  white  and  blue. 

"  Theodore's  flowers,"  said  Andy. 

The  sun  was  just  rising.  It  flooded  hill  and  flow- 
ers in  waves  of  rosy  light. 

Later 

Perhaps  this  Mr.  Graves  knows  something  about 
law.  He  seems  somehow  easier  to  approach  than 
Brett. 

I  shall  consult  him. 

Later 

What  is  the  matter  with  me? 

I  asked  him  instead  about  San  Jacinto  day.  He 
said  it  was  the  anniversary  of  Texas  independence, 
and  told  me  the  story  of  the  Alamo.  I  would  ask 
Mr.  Razor  but  he  looks  as  if  he  doesn't  know. 

Later 
I  will  consult  Brett  Jordan.     I  will. 

Night 

I  did.  Or,  at  least,  I  would  have.  My  courage 
was  with  me,  and,  finding  him  just  now,  alone  on  the 
porch,  I  went  straight  up  to  him. 


150 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  you,"  he  said. 

And  before  I  could  speak,  he  told  me  he  loved  me 
and  asked  me  to  marry  him.  I  could  only  gasp  and 
pull  away,  for  he  had  my  hands  tight. 

"  Don't !  Don't !  "  I  cried.  "  Let  me  go !  You 
have  spoiled  everything !  " 

I  never  in  all  my  life  saw  a  man  look  so  surprised. 
Is  the  whole  world  attempting  matrimony?  They 
don't  know  what  it  means. 

I  have  secured  from  Claire  the  name  of  a  promi- 
nent Acme  lawyer.  I  shall  consult  him  by  letter. 

April  24th 

I  don't  know  how  to  consult  a  lawyer,  especially 
by  mail.  What  is  the  matter  with  everything? 

Lately  I  seem  walking  in  a  dream.  Dream  people 
are  about  me.  I  move  among  them,  I  talk  with  them 
—  yet  often  I  scarcely  know  what  I  say. 

To-day  he  came.  Suddenly  I  heard  his  voice, 
and  I  seemed  to  wake  an  instant  with  sharp,  wound- 
ing j°y- 

He  went  away,  and  then  again  the  moving  in  a 
dream. 

April  %5th 

He  said  it  was  nothing  —  nothing  —  but  I  know 
his  hands  are  burned.  It  was  all  so  quick,  and  he 
rode  away  again,  without  letting  us  touch  him  or  do 
a  thing  — 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          151 

I  know  he  is  suffering  to-night. 

It  was  like  this.  They  were  branding  the  cat- 
tle —  a  round-up  they  call  it  —  and  that  soft-eyed 
little  Miss  Burns  had  just  lassoed  a  calf  and  was 
holding  him  for  them  to  bring  the  branding  iron.  I 
was  wondering  at  her,  for  it  was  such  a  pretty  calf, 
and  she  was  so  pretty  —  indeed,  her  eyes  were  very 
much  like  the  eyes  of  the  animal,  struggling  there 
in  the  dirt  —  when  suddenly,  over  the  calf's  cries, 
and  all  the  tumult  of  the  men  and  cattle,  rose  the 
piercing  shriek  of  a  child.  Over  by  the  furnace 
where  the  irons  were  heating,  I  saw  a  little  girl  fly- 
ing from  us,  her  skirts  a  circle  of  flame. 

In  an  instant  men  and  cattle  seemed  petrified. 
Then  a  sort  of  stampede  began,  and  the  only  defi- 
nite figure  in  it  all  was  Dudley  Holt.  Leaping  from 
his  horse  he  seized  the  child  in  his  two  hands,  and 
gripping  her,  struck  at  the  fire,  crying  out,  "  That 
blanket,  man ! "  Then  wrapping  the  little  figure 
close,  he  fled  with  her  to  the  canyon  fifty  yards 
away,  and  plunged  into  the  stream.  One  of  the  cow- 
boys, her  father,  I  think,  took  her  home.  She  was 
not  badly  burned,  for  Dudley  had  taken  in  his  hands 
what  Fate  might  have  held  for  her. 

Then  the  round-up  went  on  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. Except  that  I  came  home. 

And  to-night,  it  is  strange,  but  my  hands  pain  me, 
as  if  it  were  I  who  had  felt  the  fire. 


XIII 

April  28th 

He  has  gone.  Not  to  the  dug-out,  beyond  the 
Grey  Monarch,  but  out  into  space,  somewhere- — 
anywhere,  that  I  may  prove  a  year's  desertion  and 
divorce  him,  with  no  taint  upon  my  name.  And  dur- 
ing that  year  I  am  to  have  a  fictitious  great-uncle 
die  and  leave  me  his  money.  Then  I  am  supposed 
to  buy  El  Leona,  and  live  here.  And  ah,  the  things 
that  are  to  be  mine!  The  automobiles  and  the 
servants  and  the  new  ranch-house  —  he  showed  me  a 
sketch  of  that  —  for  all  these,  he  says,  are  the  mod- 
ern equipment  of  ranches. 

I  think  I  know  better,  but  he  shall  have  his  way. 
To  protest  now  would  be  to  raise  obstacles  in  his 
path.  Perhaps,  too,  a  broken  ankle  leaves  one  meek. 

But  I  forgot  you  do  not  know  about  my  ankle ! 

For  four  days,  Jeremiah,  I  have  told  you  noth- 
ing. You  lay  at  the  bottom  of  my  little  steamer 
trunk,  and  I  could  not  cross  the  room.  I  should 
have  asked  someone  to  get  you  for  me,  but  you  have 
a  way  of  dropping  open  —  which  comes  of  my  lay- 
ing my  .head  down  on  you  sometimes  —  and  I  was 

afraid  you  might  let  fall  a  word. 

152 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          153 

At  dawn  last  Tuesday  we  set  out  on  horse-back 
for  Blue  Falls  Canyon,  twenty  miles  away.  Claire 
rode  in  front  with  the  guide,  for  she  knows  more  than 
he  about  roads.  Then  came  Mr.  Graves  and  Meraud 
Burns,  Mr.  Jordan  and  I.  At  the  dug-out  we  were 
joined  by  Andy  and  Mr.  Holt.  That  was  half-way. 
It  was  broad  daylight  when  we  went  on  again,  and 
almost  noon  when  we  reached  the  Falls.  There,  we 
had  lunch  beside  the  canyon,  and  we  gathered  ferns 
and  took  walks  and  sang  at  sunset  as  we  made  ready 
to  return. 

Brett  Jordan  stayed  close  to  me,  and  I  was  thank- 
ful, for  I  feared  —  I  actually  feared  —  being  alone 
with  Mr.  Holt.  I  knew  a  talk  was  due  between  us 
soon  or  late,  for  some  sort  of  agreement  must  be 
reached,  but  something  inside  me  kept  saying,  "  Not 
yet ! ",  which  is  not  like  me  at  all. 

So  I  was  grateful  to  Brett  Jordan,  and  when  he 
had  tightened  his  saddle  girth  for  the  ride  home, 
I  did  not  scold  him  as  he  turned  and  caught  my 
hand.  I  was  afraid  he  might  ride  with  someone  else, 
and  leave  me  behind  with  Mr.  Holt. 

And  even  as  Brett  gripped  my  hand  and  talked 
hurriedly  —  It  was  something  about  the  minute  he 
saw  me,  and  his  mother  knew,  and  it  didn't  matter 
about  the  past  —  even  in  that  instant,  I  saw  Dud- 
ley standing  a  little  way  off  beside  Claire,  who  had 
just  leaped  into  her  saddle.  The  guide  was  giving 
her  the  reins,  and  I  was  sure  they  had  all  three  seen 


154.          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

us,  for  they  had  the  air  of  people  who  have  just 
looked  away. 

Mr.  Holt  turned  and  went  toward  his  own  horse 
which  waited  across  the  canyon,  near  my  own.  He 
had  to  go  down  by  a  little  foot-path,  and  Claire 
wheeled  her  mount,  calling  out,  "  See  you  at  the 
house !  "  Then  more  clearly,  "  All  those  who  want 
to,  come  with  us  !  " 

It  seems  she  and  the  guide  were  to  try  the  new 
road  to  El  Leona. 

I  was  so  angry  with  myself,  so  enraged,  that  I  did 
what  we  all  do  under  such  circumstances.  I  jumped 
on  somebody  else. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  cried  to  Mr.  Jordan. 
"  Don't  come  near  me  again!  Oh,  what  made  you? 
What  made  you?  " 

And  I  stormed  like  a  vixen  to  keep  back  the  tears. 
For  an  instant  he  regarded  me  in  blank  reproach. 
Then  with  a  chivalrous,  southern  bow,  and  a  very  red 
forehead,  he  turned  and  rode  down  the  little  foot- 
path, overtaking  and  passing  Mr.  Holt. 

It  had  been  his  intention  to  cross  the  canyon  and 
get  my  mount,  and  I  watched  him  now,  rather  con- 
cerned as  to  whether  he  meant  still  to  perform  this 
office  for  me.  He  passed  on,  joining  Andy  and 
Meraud  Burns  and  Mr.  Graves.  They  disappeared 
beyond  the  trees. 

Mr.  Holt  and  I  were  left  to  follow  alone. 

However,  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  my  getting 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          155 

my  own  horse  and  following  either  group.  I  stood  at 
the  canyon's  edge  and  by  stepping  down  the  rocks  a 
little  way,  I  could  reach  a  level  not  more  than  six 
feet  above  the  blue,  broken  threads  of  water  running 
amid  the  stones.  This  would  be  a  short  cut  to  where 
my  horse  was  grazing,  and,  as  everyone  knows,  a 
jump  of  six  feet  is  nothing  to  an  active  girl. 

With  a  little  breathless  spring  I  made  it,  and  in 
another  minute  I  would  have  clambered  up  the  other 
side,  leaped  into  the  saddle  and  gone.  But,  in  jump- 
ing, one  foot  had  sunk  deep  in  the  ooze  and  one  had 
encountered  the  slab  of  rock  at  which  both  aimed. 
And  the  foot  that  had  struck  the  rock  had  broken  off 
clean  at  the  ankle. 

At  least,  that's  how  it  seemed  to  me,  and  I  lay 
huddled  in  the  water,  which,  thank  heaven,  was  no 
more  than  a  finger's  depth,  writhing  with  such  pain 
as  I  had  never  known.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to 
keep  from  shrieking  out,  but  I  knew  there  was  no  one 
to  come  except  Mr.  Holt,  who  was  no  doubt  crossing 
the  foot-path  that  minute,  in  order  to  take  the  new 
road  with  Claire.  I  thought  I  should  die  of  keep- 
ing in  my  groans.  I  would  have  given  the  whole 
Leona  ranch  for  the  luxury  of  one  agonized  yell. 
But  I  must  keep  silent.  I  must  lie  quite  still,  then 
scale  the  rocks  opposite,  find  my  horse  and  ride 
hard,  hard  until  I  caught  the  others. 

Oh,  for  Brett  Jordan  to  help  me,  no  matter  what 
he  might  do ! 


156          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

And  so,  after  an  absolutely  motionless,  silent 
minute,  I  attempted  to  get  up  and  walk.  That  was 
all.  I  don't  remember  another  thing.  Nothing,  ex- 
cept that,  with  my  face  wet  and  my  eyes  blinking 
moisture,  I  was  looking  straight  up  into  the  face 
of  Mr.  Holt.  And  instead  of  a  damp  rock  for  a 
pillow,  my  head  lay  on  something  quite  dry  and 
woolly  and  soft,  yet  firm  as  Gibraltar.  As  soon  as 
I  grew  aware  that  this  strange  object  was  Mr.  Holt's 
arm,  I  sat  up.  And  then  —  Then  I  fell  back  again, 
and  cried  out  in  spite  of  myself,  sick  all  over.  He 
flung  some  more  water  in  my  face,  then  after  a  mo- 
ment, "  Lie  perfectly  still,"  he  said.  "  Don't  try  to 
move."  Then  he  lifted  me  in  his  arms  and  made 
for  the  path.  "  Relax ! "  he  commanded.  It  was 
a  whisper,  for  carrying  a  sizable  girl  through  a 
canyon  bed  is  not  conducive,  I  imagine,  to  easy 
respiration.  So  I  relaxed.  It  was  the  fear  of  an- 
other million-pronged  stab  from  my  ankle  that  had 
kept  me  stiff.  Strangely  enough,  it  hurt  less  when  I 
relinquished  my  brace  upon  it. 

Gaining  the  path,  he  began  the  ascent. 

"Can  you  —  can  you  hold  to  me?"  he  asked. 
"That's  it.  Tighter— so!" 

My  arms  were  about  his  neck.  I  know  I  was 
heavy!  It  was  like  a  symbol,  my  clinging  to  him 
this  way,  burdening,  impeding  him.  Yet,  as  in 
reality,  the  burden  suffered  too ! 

We  reached  the  spot  where  Brett  Jordan  had  stood 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          157 

with  me  only  a  little  while  before.  He  lowered  me 
to  the  grass  with  marvelous,  gentle  care,  yet  even 
so,  I  could  have  screamed  aloud. 

"  Where  are  you  hurt  ?  "  he  asked  quickly,  still 
kneeling  beside  me. 

"  My  ankle !  "  I  whispered  through  gripped  teeth. 

He  rose  and,  stripping  off  his  coat,  rolled  it  into 
a  pillow  for  me.  Then  gently  he  began  to  unfasten 
my  riding  boot.  The  horror  of  pain  was  almost 
intolerable  but  at  last  the  boot  was  off,  and  I  lay 
back  exhausted  with  relief. 

"  There's  no  riding  home  with  that  foot,"  he  re- 
marked. 

He  turned  and  went  down  into  the  canyon  where 
our  two  horses  were  standing  in  the  shallow  water. 
He  had  apparently  left  them  there  on  seeing  me 
fallen  from  the  rock.  He  detached  a  small  hamper 
strapped  to  his  mount,  and,  returning,  drew  from 
it  one  of  the  lunch  cloths  we  had  spread  beneath  the 
trees. 

It  was  past  sunset  now,  and  dusk  was  falling. 

"  The  others,"  I  said,  "  they  will  miss  us  soon 
and  turn  back." 

I  had  just  become  conscious  of  the  real  situation. 
Before  that  it  had  been  only  the  choking,  harrowing 
pain  that  occupied  me. 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  he  answered.  He  was  tearing 
the  lunch  cloth  into  strips.  "  I  had  hoped  for  a 
minute  they  might  come  back  and  go  for  a  doctor. 


158          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

However,  they  went  off  in  separate  groups.  Each 
detachment  will  suppose  we  are  with  the  other. 
We'll  do  our  own  doctoring,"  he  added,  and  knelt 
down  by  the  battered  foot.  "  Just  a  little  tight 
wrapping  so  that  the  ligaments  won't  swell." 

I  felt  I  should  murder  him  if  he  touched  it,  but 
I  nerved  myself  at  length,  and,  really,  his  hands  were 
very  deft  and  kind.  Even  in  the  dusk  I  could  see 
the  red  marks  of  the  fire  upon  them,  and  wondered 
at  his  seeming  forgetfulness  of  these. 

"  Have  you  studied  surgery  ?  "  I  heard  myself  ask. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  One  learns  everything  in 
the  army,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  in  Cuba,  you 
know." 

"  A  Rough  Rider?  " 

"Yes.  ...  Ah!     That  must  have  hurt !" 

"  Not  a  great  deal,"  I  stammered,  as  the  bandage 
passed  over  the  most  tortured  part.  "  So  that's  how 
you  ride  so  well?  " 

"  No  better  than  you,  my  lady.  And  now  that 
will  do  until  the  doctor  comes."  He  rose.  It  was 
a  very  professional  looking  bandage,  but  the  throb- 
bing inside! 

"Are  you  —  going  for  the  doctor,  yourself?"  I 
asked,  for  he  had  started  toward  the  horses.  He 
hesitated.  In  the  west  a  little  sliver  of  moon  was 
hung.  The  stars  were  dusting  the  sky. 

"  If  I  go,"  he  answered,  "  I  cannot  get  back  before 
midnight.  You  would  be  here  alone." 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          159 

He  paused.  I  think  he  was  waiting  for  me  to  ex- 
press my  wishes  in  the  matter,  but  I  said  nothing. 
He  went  to  the  hamper  and  opened  it.  "  There's 
some  fried  chicken  left,"  he  said.  "  Aren't  you  hun- 
gry? " 

I  was  debating  whether  I  should  let  him  stay 
there  with  me  or  abandon  me  to  wild-cats  and  things. 

He  spread  the  contents  of  the  hamper  on  what  was 
left  of  the  lunch-cloth,  as  if  tempting  me.  I  ate  to 
oblige  him,  and  when  we  had  finished  he  wrapped  the 
rest  in  the  cloth  and  laid  it  away.  "  For  break- 
fast," he  said. 

Then  he  went  down  into  the  canyon  and,  leading 
up  the  horses,  unsaddled  them  for  the  night. 

"  And  now  are  you  comfortable  ?  "  he  asked,  re- 
turning. 

"  Yes,  thank  you.  There  is  almost  no  pain  when 
I  lie  still." 

The  yellow  dusk  spread  deeper  beneath  a  gray- 
green  sky.  The  fine  dust  of  stars  had  crystallized 
into  single  glowing  gems  of  varying  hues.  High 
up  hung  a  sapphire,  lucent,  tremulous.  Yonder, 
where  the  sun  had  sunk,  a  ruby  burned,  with  edges 
of  gold.  Close  to  the  moon  swung  a  globule  of 
green  flame,  an  emerald. 

He  sat  down  beside  me.     There  was  silence. 

"  Have  you  not  something  to  say  to  me? "  he 
asked. 

So  he  would  make  me  begin  it !     And  yet  he  had 


160          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

promised  to  tell  me,  frankly  and  honestly,  if  ever 
this  situation  should  arise! 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.  "  I  want  you  to  know  — "  I 
stopped. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said,  as  if  trying  to  help  me. 
"  It  is  you  and  Jordan." 

I  felt  again  the  stinging,  unaccountable  anger. 

"No!     How  could  you  think  such  a  thing?" 

"  It  is  your  right,"  he  said,  "  to  feel  toward  him 
as  you  please.  I  do  not  forget  our  contract." 

"  Nor  I,"  I  reminded  him  at  once.  "  But  it  is  not 
Jordan.  I  —  I  don't  want  you  to  think  so." 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  am  wrong.  Have  you,  by  any 
chance,  found  Tubby  ?  " 

How  odd  he  should  think  of  that !  And  how  easy 
to  see  that  he  meant  to  force  the  break  on  me !  He 
had  promised  to  tell  me  if  ever  he  should  find  that 
other  one,  and  now  he  had  not  the  heart.  Very  well. 
I  would  spare  him.  Obligingly,  I  would  leap  into 
the  breach.  But  I  would  not  lie. 

"  Have  you  found  Tubby  ?  "  he  asked  again. 

"  Perhaps.  That,  I  believe,  is  neither  here  nor 
there.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  how  I  can  most  quickly 
secure  a  divorce." 

Why  is  the  word  so  hard  to  say?  What  is  there 
in  the  sound  that  is  like  the  severing  stroke  of  a 
knife? 

When  he  spoke  it  was  as  if  after  he  had  drawn  a 
long  breath  of  relief. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          161 

"It  will  not  be  difficult  for  you  in  this  state,"  he 
said,  "  I  will  go  away.  It  will  be  a  case  of  deser- 
tion, and  no  blame,  whatever,  need  attach  to  you. 
There  must  be  a  year's  residence,  however." 

"  It  is  a  long  time  to  wait,"  I  said.  However,  I 
hadn't  made  the  laws. 

"  I  know,"  he  answered.  "  When  we  love  we 
grow  impatient.  It  is  hard.  God  knows  it  is  hard." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,"  I  said  gently.  But  even 
that,  coming  from  me,  seemed  an  intrusion.  He 
turned,  not  looking  at  me,  and  said  in  a  voice  so 
hard  that  it  seemed  forged  in  some  far  iron  corner 
of  his  heart : 

"  You  must  not  think  of  me." 

And  then  he  told  me  all  his  plans  connected  with 
the  ranch:  how  it  would  be  best,  in  securing  the  di- 
vorce, to  retire  to  El  Leona  instead  of  remaining  at 
so  public  an  environment  as  the  Razors':  how  our 
relation  should  still  be  kept  a  secret  for  my  sake, 
and  all  the  rest. 

It  was  well  thought  out,  and  I  demurred  at  noth- 
ing, knowing  that  any  struggles  of  mine  against  gift 
or  sacrifice  on  his  part,  were  but  obstacles  in  his  path, 
and  I  was  done  with  these. 

So  when  he  had  said  all,  I  thanked  him,  and 
promised  to  obey  —  just  as  I  had  promised  before 
the  bishop  a  little  more  than  two  months  ago. 

The  dusk  paled  like  a  gathered  rose.  The  night 
was  around  us. 


162          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

He  broke  the  silence. 

"  Is  the  pain  gone  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  —  which  was  true,  when  I  lay 
still. 

He  rose,  and  bringing  a  horse-blanket,  for  the 
night  was  cool,  laid  it  about  me,  tucking  it  into 
the  grass,  as  if  it  had  been  a  bed  and  I  a  child. 

"  Is  there  nothing  else  ?  "  he  asked  when  I  had 
thanked  him. 

"  My  hair,"  I  answered.  "  It  hurts  me,  and  I 
daren't  move." 

"  You  want  it  undone?  " 

"  Please." 

He  knelt  at  the  head  of  my  grassy  bed  and  began 
to  draw  out  the  long  shell  pins,  a  little  uncertainly 
at  first,  as  if  fearful  of  hurting  me,  then  more  quickly, 
and  presently  I  felt  him  loosen  the  coils,  spreading 
and  untwisting  them  with  gentle  clumsiness,  until 
finally  the  loose  mass  lay  about  me  on  the  pillow. 
He  bent  above  me. 

"  There  is  nothing  else  ?  " 

"  You  have  done  a  great  deal.  Thank  you.  I 
can  sleep  now." 

"  Good  night,  then,"  he  said.  rt  Good  night  — 
little  girl." 

The  last  was  a  murmur  —  the  wind  might  have 
made  it  —  but  it  held  such  pathos,  such  sorrow,  and, 
had  it  been  a  woman's  voice,  I  might  have  said,  such 
tears,  that  on  the  instant  I  was  impelled  to  answer, 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          163 

as  he  had  done,  "  You  must  not  think  of  me."  But 
he  had  risen  almost  with  the  words,  and  gone  back 
to  where  the  blankets  and  saddles  were. 

Presently  he  called  to  me  in  a  voice  quite  void 
of  pity  or  compassion,  "  Sleep  well !  If  you  need 
anything,  I'll  hear  you  call."  And  he  lay  down 
there  with,  I  think,  a  saddle  for  a  pillow. 

Then  silence  came  in  earnest,  the  silence  vast  and 
stupendous,  that  only  the  prairies  know.  The  moon 
had  long  since  melted  like  a  taper-flame  into  the 
gray-green  of  the  sky.  The  stars  crowded  close. 
And  now  a  wind  woke  like  a  sigh  from  the  drowsy 
breast  of  the  night.  The  arms  of  the  trees  em- 
braced and  trembled.  The  flitting  garments  of  wood- 
ghosts  whispered  and  stirred.  I  heard  the  trickling 
of  the  canyon  stream  as  it  wound  among  the  stones, 
small,  regular,  like  the  ticking  of  a  clock. 

I  seemed  to  be  at  the  very  center  of  the  still  heart 
of  Sleep.  Its  rhythmic  beat  filled  me  at  last  with 
peace. 


XIV 

When  I  awoke  the  dawn  was  red  beyond  the  canyon. 
In  the  half  light  he  was  saddling  his  horse.  I  smelt 
coffee  and,  looking  about,  I  saw  the  little  granite 
pot  smoking  on  a  blaze  of  logs. 

He  turned  now  and  went  toward  the  basket,  and 
a  moment  later  I  saw  him  coming  toward  me,  a  plate 
and  cup  in  his  hands. 

There  are  things  we  do  for  which  there  is  no  ac- 
counting. Moreover,  we've  no  idea  of  doing  them 
until  we  find  they're  done.  I  think  the  reason  I 
closed  my  eyes  and  pretended  to  be  still  asleep  was 
because  I  didn't  want  him  to  know  I  had  been  watch- 
ing him.  But  perhaps  it  was  because  I  didn't  want 
to  talk.  He  would  ask  me  if  my  ankle  hurt,  and  it 
did.  Besides,  I  hated  for  him  to  go  —  it  was  so 
lonesome,  and  the  wild  animals  were  all  hunting  their 
breakfasts,  and  I  couldn't  run.  I  was  likely  to  ask 
him  to  stay.  So  I  lay  with  my  eyes  closed,  which 
acted  as  a  sort  of  guarantee  on  my  lips.  I  heard 
him  come  close,  stop,  then  cautiously  lay  plate  and 
cup  on  the  grass  beside  me.  There  followed  a  silence 
filled  with  the  strong  odor  of  coffee.  Presently  I 
felt  the  grass  stir  as  if  he  had  knelt  down.  Then 

slow  fingers  closed  about  my  hand.     In  spite  of  my- 

164 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          165 

self,  I  stirred,  and  my  eyes  almost  opened.  At  once 
the  clasp  relaxed.  I  heard  him  rise  and,  after  an- 
other moment,  he  moved  away.  I  opened  my  eyes 
and  presently  saw  him  mounted,  emerging  from  the 
canyon  on  the  other  side,  darkly  outlined  against 
the  glowing  east. 

Beside  me  on  the  grass  lay  his  pistol  —  as  startling 
an  object  at  first  sight  as  any  jaguar  or  rattlesnake. 
I  moved  out  of  its  way.  Yet  gradually  it  came  to 
suggest  the  man  himself,  to  seem  like  him  in  all  its 
silent  strength,  its  ready  protectiveness.  It  was  his 
fitting  deputy,  this  big  revolver,  so  powerful,  so  pol- 
ished, so  quiet  withal. 

I  lifted  it  in  my  hand.  Almost  I  wished  that  some 
big  beast  would  call  that  I  might  try  my  hand.  Al- 
most. However,  nothing  more  formidable  than  a 
red-bird  invaded  my  retreat,  and  I  laid  the  pistol 
down,  thankful  for  its  possibilities,  just  the  same. 
I  drank  my  coffee  and  ate  the  breakfast  of  cold 
chicken  and  hard-boiled  eggs,  while  the  woods  awoke 
around  me,  and  the  big  red  sun  bubbled  up  from  the 
mountains  and  the  world  ran  over  with  light.  Then 
all  that  had  whispered  and  sighed  in  the  night, 
stretched  its  arms  and  laughed  aloud. 
'  Lying  with  my  body  close  to  the  earth,  I  too,  was 
charged  with  that  current  of  renewing  energy.  Yet 
I  dared  not  move,  except  to  do  by  degrees,  my  fallen 
hair,  and  rest  on  my  elbow,  watching  the  birds  flit 
in  and  out,  crying  joy-words  and  caroling. 


166          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

And  I  wondered  if  that  hand-clasp  had  been  his 
farewell,  or  if  he  would  return  again  with  the  doctor. 
Surely  he  would  return,  for  how  could  he  throw  me 
into  the  hands  of  a  stranger,  doctor  though  that 
stranger  was? 

Return  he  did,  alone.  The  doctor  had  been  out 
and  he  had  communicated  with  him  by  telephone. 
He  would  arrive  soon  in  a  surrey  which  should  bear 
me  home.  Horseback  for  me,  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  Here  is  your  pistol,"  I  said.     "  Thank  you." 

He  thrust  it  in  his  holster,  smiling. 

"  There  was  nothing  to  hurt  you,"  he  said.  "  But 
I  thought  you'd  like  companionship." 

"  It  was  a  little  awkward  at  first,"  I  answered. 
"  Such  a  perfect  stranger !  But  we  made  friends." 

He  sat  beside  me  on  the  grass.  "  I  would  have  in- 
troduced you  before  I  left,  but  you  were  asleep,"  he 
said. 

"  Look !  "  I  cried.  "  How  wonderful  the  sun  is 
over  El  Leona ! "  For  indeed,  the  red  bubble 
seemed  to  have  broken  into  a  rain  of  dazzling  white- 
ness. 

"  There  are  no  sunsets,"  he  said,  "  more  beautiful 
than  these.  And  sunrise  here  gives  one,  always,  the 
feeling  that  the  world  has  been  made  over  new." 

And  he  told  me  of  places  he  had  been,  stranger 
than  this  —  far  places  that  I  hardly  dreamed  were 
on  the  earth.  Islands,  tucked  away  in  green  cor- 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          167 

ners  of  the  sea.  Strange,  crumbling  cities,  where' 
only  dead  men  live.  Lurid  red  deserts,  and  the  black 
buried  hearts  of  mines.  He  told  me  of  his  days  in 
Cuba,  and  the  big  inner  story  of  San  Juan. 

"  Why  don't  you  write  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Life  seems 
to  interest  you  so  much." 

"  It  does.  That's  why  I  couldn't  sketch  it.  One 
has  to  sit  apart  to  get  the  right  focus  for  that. 
Writing  is  all  perspective  work.  I  want  to  be  in 
the  melee.  I  want  to  live  it." 

Sudddenly  there  came  to  us  from  this  side  the 
canyon,  the  sound  of  approaching  wheels.  He  spoke 
quickly. 

"  It  is  the  doctor.  I  shall  not  see  you  again 
alone.  Good-by.  God  bless  you." 

I  had  forgotten  he  was  going  away ! 

"  Good-by !  "  I  whispered  back.  And  at  that  in- 
stant the  surrey  appeared,  and  he  rose  to  meet  it. 

There  was  something  familiar  about  the  doctor's 
outlines,  and  after  a  moment,  I  could  have  laughed 
aloud  as  Rufus  Honeywell  came  hurrying  toward 
me,  carrying  his  little  bag.  I  braved  the  pain  and 
sat  up  to  welcome  him. 

His  face  showed  his  astonishment. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Waiting  for  your  services,  it  seems,"  I  answered. 
"  What  are  you  doing?  " 

He  opened  his  satchel. 

"  Left  my  patient  at  Roswell,"  he  replied.     "  It 


168          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

agreed  with  him,  all  right,  but  not  with  me."  He 
looked  at  Dudley.  "  I  see  you  found  him ! "  he 
observed. 

I  hated  him  for  that  and  glanced  to  see  if  Dudley 
had  overheard,  but  he  was  delaying  to  fit  the  sur- 
rey for  the  home  trip.  He  came  over  presently. 
Rufus  knelt  down.  He  had  become  professional  — 
so  very  professional,  indeed,  that  I  grew  afraid  he 
meant  to  amputate  my  foot  in  order  to  prove  his 
surgeon's  hand. 

"  Good  bit  of  work,"  he  remarked  to  Dudley,  hav- 
ing thoroughly  poked  my  foot.  I  had  meant  to 
introduce  them,  but  these  professional  maneuvers  had 
knocked  it  out  of  my  head. 

"  Any  bones  broken  ?  "  asked  Dudley. 

"  Just  a  bad  wrench.     Got  some  hot  water?  " 

So,  in  the  course  of  the  next  hour,  with  the  as- 
sistance of  boiling  water  —  I  know  it  was  boiling !  — 
and  adhesive  tape,  ajid  his  surgeon's  hands,  Doctor 
Rufus  avenged  himself  for  any  possible  injury  I  may 
have  done  his  heart  or  career.  Then  with  my  foot 
looking  for  all  the  world  like  a  high-bred  Chinese 
lady's,  and  feeling  nicely  boiled  and  packed  for  the 
winter,  I  heard  him  say,  "  She'll  be  all  right  in  a 
few  days  —  five  at  best." 

With  this  good  news  I  managed  to  introduce  the 
doctor,  and  explain  to  Dudley  that  we'd  met  in  New 
York.  Dudley  seemed  not  concerned  with  this  par- 
ticularly. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          169 

"  Just  a  minute,"  he  remarked.  "  I'd  like  to  have 
things  clear  before  we  start.  As  you  no  doubt  know, 
this  lady  is  my  wife." 

Rufus  said  that  he  suspected"  it. 

"  Then  you  are  the  only  person  hereabout  who 
does.  We  are  not  discussing  the  fact  generally  for 
reasons  of  our  own.  When  we  go  back  to  the  house 
it  is  to  be  understood  that  you  were  with-  us  since 
last  night." 

Rufus  had  a  severe  attack  of  professional  manner. 

"  For  the  —  er  —  lady's  sake  I  suppose." 

Dudley  looked  annoyed. 

"  Obviously,"  he  said. 

"  I  see.  All  right.  I  saw  twins  and  a  lusty  boy 
on  board  this  little  star  last  night,  but  I'd  just  as 
soon  have  been  here  chaperoning  you  two  married 
people,  if  that's  what  you  want." 

"  That's  what  I  want,"  said  Dudley. 

Then,  while  I  manfully  strangled  sixteen  yells,  he 
lifted  me  in  his  arms,  and,  carrying  me  to  the  sur- 
rey, deposited  me  on  a  pile  of  blankets  and  pillows 
Rufus  had  brought.  Then  he  flung  his  wrinkled  coat 
across  his  horse,  found  my  hat  somewhere  —  I'd  for- 
gotten I  had  one  —  tied  my  disgraced  looking  pony 
to  the  surrey,  and  we  all  started  off. 

Such  chaos  we  found  at  home !  They  hadn't 
missed  us  until  morning,  for  twice  I  had  spent  the 
night  in  Meraud  Burns'  room,  and  Claire  had  sup- 
posed I  was  there.  Andy,  in  the  dug-out,  had  slept 


170          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

with  the  conscience  of  the  just,  so  the  question  of 
Dudley's  absence,  like  mine,  had  not  come  up  until 
morning.  The  corn-planters  had  noticed  it  first. 
He  had  been  directing  their  operations,  and  they 
waited  for  him  until  late. 

Then,  however,  there  were  racing  and  chasing  on 
El  Leona  lea ! 

I  don't  know  what  they  thought,  but  I  gathered 
they  had  suspected  an  elopement.  However,  my  ap- 
pearance explained  itself.  Dr.  Honeywell  was  intro- 
duced and  told  his  brave  little  lie.  Dudley  bade  us  all 
good-by,  to  leave  that  night,  and  I  was  put  in  bed, 
where  I  have  been  four  days. 

I  don't  know  why  spraining  one's  ankle  and  having 
to  stay  in  bed  should  so  radically  change  the  world. 
It  is  as  if  some  light  that  burned  a)t  the  center  of 
things  had  gone  out.  As  if  life  were  sapped  dry  of 
flavor  and  beauty  and  joy ! 

Claire  did  a  thing  last  night  I  never  saw  any  girl 
do.  She  sat  for  the  first  half  of  the  night,  looking 
out  into  the  moonlight.  I  don't  think  she  moved 
once. 

Then  she  rose  abruptly  and  dressed. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  I  asked. 

"I  simply  can't  sleep,"  she  said.  And,  flinging 
open  the  door,  she  went  out  into  the  night. 

Time  and  again  she  would  have  confided  in  me, 
and  I  would  not.  Now  she  has  grown  reticent,  re- 
mote. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          171 

April  30th  . 

Jeremiah,  you  will  not  believe  it  —  I  couldn't  at 
first,  myself  —  but  it's  true ! 

This  morning  Andy  said  to  me,  "  Want  to  ride  ?  " 

"Can't,"  I  answered.     "See  this  crutch?" 

I  had  just  hobbled  out  to  the  porch.  It  had 
seemed  a  lark ! 

"  I  don't  mean  horse-back,"  said  Andy.  "  I  mean 
in  the  buggy." 

Which  was  different.  So  with  the  help  of  my 
staff  and  Andy's  good  right  arm,  I  climbed  in,  and 
off  we  clattered. 

"  Where  are  the  others  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  If  you  mean  Jordan,"  twinkled  Andy,  "  he's  gone 
back  to  Acme." 

This  was  news  to  me,  but  I  hadn't  meant  Jordan. 

The  others,  Andy  explained,  were  at  church  —  not 
the  church  for  simple-hearted  souls  across  the  canyon, 
—  but  the  colored  church  which  was  being  held  bap- 
tismally  and  somewhat  divertingly  in  the  canyon 
itself. 

"  Over  yonder,"  pointed  Andy,  "  where  the  water's 
deep." 

"  Let's  go  there,"  I  suggested. 

"  Can't.  I'm  bound  for  the  dug-out.  Mr.  Holt 
wired  last  night  that  he'd  left  his  watch.  I  gotter 
get  it  and  send  it  to  him  by  registered  mail.  'N'  I 
left  a  saddle  there,  too." 

"  I  suppose  Mr.  Holt  couldn't  wait,"  I  suggested. 


172          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  He  won't  know  the  time  till  the  registered  package 
reaches  him." 

"  It's  not  the  watch,"  said  Andy.  "  That's  not 
what  he's  botherin'  about.  It's  the  lady's  picture 
in  the  back  of  it." 

"  What  lady  is  it?  "  I  asked  presently. 

"  Don't  know  her,"  said  Andy. 

"  You've  —  seen  it?  " 

He  nodded,  shifting  his  eyes  to  me.  I  wondered 
if  I  looked  as  queer  as  I  felt.  "  Used  to  see  it  every 
night  when  I  stayed  at  the  dug-out  with  him.  He'd 
look  at  it,  then  he'd  go  to  bed." 

"  Is  she  pretty?  "  I  asked. 

Andy  nodded  with  fervor.  We  had  reached  the 
dug-out.  He  helped  me  out  and  we  went  in.  It  was 
a  forlorn  place  of  three  separate  rooms,  the  cool 
earthen  floor  dimpled  here  and  there  as  if  with  the 
tread  of  Theodore's  babies.  The  bunk  in  the  corner, 
crudely  spread,  a  saddle  on  the  floor,  the  big  boots 
I  had  seen  him  wear,  the  gray  sombrero  hung  on  a 
deer's  horn,  all  wore  a  look  of  desertion,  of  patient 
waiting.  On  a  little  shelf  beside  a  pewter  water- 
jug,  lay  the  watch  in  shining  view  of  any  thief. 

Andy  lugged  the  saddle  out  to  the  buggy.  I  heard 
him  storing  it  in  the  back. 

And  then  —  I'd  no  idea  I  would  do  such  a  thing 
—  I  opened  the  back  of  the  watch.  With  my  nails 
I  opened  it  —  it  was  dreadfully  tight  —  and  I  saw 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          173 

—  It  is  really  true !  I  saw  the  Lady  with  the 
Golden  Comb! 

At  first  I  couldn't  place  her,  though  she  smiled  up 
at  me  so  familiar-sweet,  looking  a  little  older,  even 
a  little  gentler,  if  that  could  be,  till  suddenly  the  air 
seemed  filled  with  the  smell  of  lilacs.  I  felt  myself 
standing  by  the  little  flowered  gate.  Soft  arms 
stole  about  me.  And  I  said,  "  Yes  —  yes !  Why 
did  I  not  know  ?  "  Only  it  was  such  a  tiny  picture, 
and  she  had  forgot  the  comb ! 

How  came  she  there?     Oh,  how  came  she  there! 

"  You've  got  it,  I  see,"  said  Andy,  suddenly  ap- 
pearing. "  Say,  if  you  don't  mind,  get  that  ready, 
will  you?  I  want  to  ride  over  and  take  Keith  his 
saddle." 

"Keith?"  I  said,  "Keith?"  being  vaguely  con- 
scious of  having  heard  the  name.  Then  I  remem- 
bered. 

"  Yes,"  said  Andy.  "  He's  back.  You  saw  him. 
Bill  Keith  —  Billy." 

Billy,  the  guide  who  had  gone  with  us  to  Blue 
Falls !  So  he  was  Keith,  the  Keith  Mrs.  Razor  had 
supposed  gone!  There  had  been  nothing  so  for- 
midable about  Keith. 

I  promised  I  would  attend  to  the  watcfh,  and  un- 
doing my  blouse,  slipped  it  inside. 

We  rode  home  together,  and  I  have  been  won- 
dering —  I  look  at  the  picture  and  I  wonder  — 


XV 

'May  2nd 


I  knew  it! 

Here  is  his  letter. 


"  My  dear  little  Wood  Nymph ! 

" —  For  I  see  you  always  with  your  face  framed 
against  a  tangle  of  green  grass  and  your  woodsy 
hair  fallen  about  your  shoulders !  My  dear  little 
Wood  Nymph,  then  —  I  am  Tubby! 

"  Never  did  I  dream  —  not  for  the  minutest  part 
of  a  minute  —  that  that  euphonious  appellation  and 
that  cherished  identity  had  once  been  mine ! 

"  But  let  me  tell  you. 

"  I  thought  so  long  as  I  must  stay  away  from 
Texas  for  a  year,  I  might  spend  part  of  that  time 
in  the  old  home,  back  in  Louisiana. 

"  You  didn't  know  I  had  lived  in  Louisiana,  did 
you  ?  I  did  —  and  I  left  when  I  was  eighteen,  for 
wanderlust  woke  in  me,  and  the  big  world  called. 

"  When  you  told  me  about  living  in  that  garden, 
you  didn't  mention  how  sleepy  it  was,  so  how  could 
I  recognize  it?  But  perhaps  you  never  found  it 
sleepy. 

"  My  mother  hasn't,  and  she  is  still  here  among  her 
174 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          175 

magnolias  and  long  gray  moss.  I  don't  suppose  you 
remember  my  mother,  but  she  remembers  you.  She 
spoke  of  you  to-day  as  *  the  little  Ballentyne  girl 
with  the  beautiful  eyes,'  and  asked  me  if  I  supposed 
you  could  be  any  relative  of  my  wife ! 

"  She  hasn't  been  told  of  the  prospective  divorce. 

"  I  know  something  of  her  feeling  in  such  matters, 
and  have  deferred  breaking  the  news  until  it  should 
come  as  less  of  a  shock.  She  pictures  you,  now, 
waiting  in  connubial  impatience  for  my  return,  and 
thinks  you  very  generous  to  lend  me  for  a  little  space ! 
She  treasures  the  letter  you  wrote  in  answer  to  hers 
when  we  became  engaged.  Singular,  is  it  not,  that 
you  two  should  have  corresponded  without  guessing! 
But  then  she  wrote  from  Florida,  being  too  ill  as 
you  remember,  for  New  York  in  winter.  Being  too 
ill,  indeed,  even  for  her  garden.  She  is  better  now, 
and  almost  well. 

"  So,  when  she  asked  if  you  could  be  related  to  my" 
wife,  I  answered  that  I  didn't  know.  *  But  what 
was  her  name  —  the  little  Ballentyne  ?  '  I  asked. 

"  For  sometimes  names  run  in  families  —  like 
beautiful  eyes!  My  mother  reflected.  'Why  her 
name  was  odd,  and  they  never  called  her  by  it.  She 
was  simply  "  Dimples  "  to  every  one,  and  it  did  very 
well.  Her  father  was  a  professor  of  ancient  lan- 
guages. And  he  played  the  violin.  Ah,  my  boy, 
how  he  could  play!  It  wrung  the  heart,  his  music! 
It  was  not  long  after  your  father's  death  that  they 


176          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

came,  and  sometimes  his  playing — '  She  stopped 
there,  my  dear  mother,  and  patted  my  hand  which 
had  fallen  on  one  of  hers.  '  He  had  come  for  his 
wife's  health  —  the  good  professor  —  and  there  had 
been  another  little  girl  whose  death  had  shaken  them 
very  much.  But  they  gave  up  the  house  all  too 
soon,  for  the  little  wife  died.  She  was  like  a  flower, 
and  when  — ' 

"  But  I  was  pacing  the  floor,  now,  up  and  down, 
literally  slapped  out  of  my  chair  and  set  going  by 
the  overwhelming,  paralyzing  fact  that  Tubby  was 
me! 

" '  The  house  is  for  sale,'  my  mother  went  on. 
*  They're  going  to  auction  it.  A  few  years  ago  I 
had  thought  of  taking  down  the  brick  wall  and  add- 
ing the  place  as  a  garden,  for  the  roses  are  wonder- 
ful, but  now — ' 

"  *  Don't  say  you're  too  old ! '  I  cried.  *  For  never 
were  you  so  lovely ! ' 

"  (And  indeed,  you'd  say  so  too,  if  you  saw  her, 
with  her  hair  whiter  than  the  magnolias  !) 

"  She  smiled.  *  Not  that  I'm  too  old,  my  boy  — 
but  you  and  Zoe  will  be  living  in  New  York,  and 
why  build  and  improve  if  not  for  you?  You  should 
have  brought  Zoe,  Dudley.  You  really  should.  My 
boy,  do  sit  down ! ' 

"  *  I  am  thinking,  Mater !  Do  you  know  if  this 
little  girl  —  this  little  Ballentyne  girl  —  ever  called 
me  "  Tubby  "?  Now  think,  Mater,  think! ' 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          177 

"  *  Why,  dear,'  said  my  mother,  *  it's  very  likely. 
"  Dudley  "  might  easily  be  converted  into  "  Tubby  " 
by  a  child.  Why  do  you  ask?  ' 

"  *  Because,  Mother,  the  little  Ballentyne  girl,  then, 
is  Zoe!  —  Zoe,  who  married  me !  Think  of  it ! 
Think  of  it,  Mater!' 

"  My  mother  was  not  in  the  least  overcome.  But 
she  smiled  as  if  quite  pleased  and  said,  *  How  lovely 
she  must  look,  then,  in  the  family  pearls ! ' 

"  (What  would  she  say,  bless  her,  if  she  knew 
that  the  family  pearls  are  at  present  adorning  the 
ungainly  body  of  a  strong  box  in  Manhattan !) 

"  And  I  left  her  straightway,  to  write  the  news  to 
you !  What  do  you  say  to  it  ?  Come  now,  what  is 
your  frank  opinion  ?  Should  we  allow  somebody  — 
anybody  —  to  intrude  between  Tubby  and  you  ? 

"  If  you  conclude  that  Tubby  should  come  back, 

send  him  a  telegram. 

«  rn  » 

I  cannot  think.  All  my  memories  flit  about  like 
bats  dazed  by  the  daylight.  Why  could  not  one  of 
us  guess? 

Of  his  own  desire  in  the  matter  he  does  not  speak. 
He  leaves  it  all  to  me  —  j  ust  as  he  left  the  breaking 
of  the  tie. 

Can  I  ignore  what  I  know  of  his  desire?  Are  not 
conditions  all  the  same,  except  that  he  has  stumbled 
upon  a  garden  back  in  the  years,  where  we  once 


178          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

played  together?     A  garden  that  he  had  well-nigh 
forgotten  ? 

May  3rd 

I  think  I  understand. 

He  has  gone  back,  and,  seeing  his  mother  again, 
has  dreaded  to  wound  her.  Finding,  too,  that  he 
was  my  Brushwood  Boy,  he  has  lacked  the  heart  to 
go  on.  It  is  his  pity  for  her  and  for  me. 

These  things  I  know,  because  Claire  has  also  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  him.  I  gave  it  to  her  myself. 

She  tore  it  open,  read  it  half  through,  looked 
strangely  about  her,  then  crumpling  it  into  her  belt, 
mounted  and  rode  off  toward  El  Leona. 

Is  it  true,  as  Pater  holds,  that  the  happiness  of 
every  one  human  being  depends  on  the  unhappiness 
of  another?  In  any  case  I  shall  not  buy  my  hap- 
piness at  the  price  of  theirs. 

I  have  not  sent  his  watch  yet,  for,  after  all,  he 
may  return  of  his  own  will. 

May  4-th 

Last  night  in  her  sleep  I  heard  Claire  say,  "  No  — 
no ! "  striking  out  with  her  arms.  "  I  cannot 
bear  — "  The  last  was  a  broken  cry. 

"  Claire !  "  I  called,  shaking  her.     "  Claire !  " 
She  woke,  and  looking  dazedly  about  her,  sat  up- 
right.    Then,   slipping   from  the  bed,   she   went   to 
the  window,  and  stood  there  silently. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          179 

After  a  moment  I  heard  the  sound  of  sobbing. 

I  stole  to  her  side  and  laid  my  arm  about  her. 

"  Can  I  help  you?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,"  she  said.     "  I  must  fight  it  out  alone." 

How  pitiful  seems  that  childhood  claim  on  him! 
A  chain  of  buttercups  that  breaks  at  a  finger-touch ! 
How  pitiful  seems  even  the  iron  chain  of  marriage, 
in  the  melting  fire  of  other  love! 

Later 

To-day,  as  if  fearing  she  might  have  hurt  me  last 
night,  Claire  said,  "  Zoe,  a  week  ago  I  would  have 
told  you.  But  now  I  am  glad  I  did  not.  If  you 
knew,  they  would  hold  you  responsible." 

What  does  she  mean?  What  did  he  write  her? 
Will  she  kill  herself  if  he  doesn't  come  back? 

Oh,  why  didn't  I  break  my  neck  instead  of  my 
ankle  ? 

Later 

Perhaps  if  I  wire  him  to  come,  he  and  Claire  will 
make  it  up,  and  everything  will  be  all  right  again. 
I  would  simply  say,  "  Come." 

Later 

I  shall  wire  nothing.  I  shall  not  even  answer  the 
letter.  I  shall  play  square. 

Night 
I  wired. 


XVI 

May  5th 

Zoe  Ballentyne,  of  all  the  frenzied  females  —  ! 

He  cannot  feel  any  greater  contempt  for  me  than  I 
feel  for  myself. 

All  night  I  lay  and  wondered  if  telegrams  could 
be  recalled.  At  dawn  I  had  decided  to  dispatch  an- 
other, retracting  the  first,  but  before  I  could  ride, 
into  town,  came  his  answer,  "  Leaving  to-night  !  " 

Then  my  heart  felt  precisely  as  if  I'd  sprained  it, 
and  began  swelling  and  pounding,  so  that  even  Dr. 
Honeywell's  surgeon's  hands  could  not  have  strapped 
it  down.  I  got  on  a  horse,  forgetting  all  about  my 
ankle,  and  rode  until  I  came  to  the  dug-out.  On  the 
way  I  gathered  blue-bonnets  and  pink  Mexican  prim- 
roses. I  mixed  them  with  long  ferns  from  the  can- 
yon and  placed  them  in  the  pewter  pitcher  to  welcome 
him. 

He'll  think  it  was  Claire. 


6th 

What  did  he  write  to  Claire? 
Her  face  haunts  me.     What  was  in  his  letter  to 
deepen  the  blue  circles  beneath  her  eyes  and  plant 

180 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          181 

the  rebellious  quiver  on  her  lip?  She  rides  alone  — 
always  alone.  Lucky  for  her  that  Meraud  and  Mr. 
Graves  entertain  each  other!  At  night  she  returns 
like  something  broken,  to  fling  herself  on  the  bed 
and  fall  into  restless  sleep. 
He  comes  to-night. 

May  8th 

I  could  not  write  yesterday.  .  .  . 

He  reached  here  at  night.  We  were  all  on  the 
porch,  and  he  suddenly  rode  up,  laughing  outright 
at  the  general  amazement. 

Claire,  who  had  been  home  all  day,  rose  without 
a  word  and  went  to  her  room.  It  was  dusk  and  I 
could  not  see  her  face.  Then  came  that  strange  im- 
pulse from  without  which  so  often  seizes  me  in  this 
man's  presence  —  an  impulse  to  do  a  thing  I  had  had 
no  thought  of  doing,  and  for  which  I  can  find  no 
reason.  I  saw  him  look  about  in  the  dark  as  if  seek- 
ing someone,  answering  the  volley  of  questions  with 
apparent  abstraction.  Then,  like  Claire,  I  rose  —  I 
don't  know  why  —  and  went  inside.  There,  I  sat 
in  the  dark,  by  the  piano,  and  listened  to  the  chat- 
ting and  laughter  just  beyond  the  open  window. 

Someone  brought  his  supper  to  him  on  the  porch. 
I  heard  the  clink  of  the  silver  and  glass.  He  was 
laughing  at  some  sally  as  he  took  the  tray,  and  still 
there  was  that  absent  note  in  his  laughter.  I  could 
feel  him  looking  about,  waiting  for  someone.  A 


182          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

week  ago  I  could  have  sworn  it  was  Claire.  But  to- 
night — 

And,  still  moving  by  that  detached  impulse,  I  went 
to  the  piano  and  found  my  fingers  wandering  over 
the  keys.  From  chord  to  chord  they  moved,  then, 
all  at  once,  breathing  beneath  them,  I  felt  the  notes 
of  that  unforgotten  Mexican  waltz.  And  it  seemed 
as  if  something  in  my  heart,  something  that  had 
awakened  that  night  when  I  heard  it  first,  stirred 
again,  and  stretched  its  wings,  and  beat  stormily 
against  my  breast.  It  seemed  as  if  my  soul  melted 
into  strange  fire  and  ran  down  into  my  fingers !  And 
the  words,  whose  meaning  I  did  not  know  —  even  as 
I  could  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  melody  or  the 
fire  through  all  my  heart  —  the  words,  like  roses, 
stole  to  my  lips,  and  I  sang  them  —  forgetting  my- 
self, forgetting  all  things,  as  I  had  forgotten  all 
when  we  danced  together. 

The  night  seemed  to  throb  with  melody. 

The  laughter  died  on  the  porch. 

Presently  a  door  opened  and  Claire  came  in.  She 
came  without  a  word  and,  sitting  on  the  seat  with 
me,  listened  a  space,  then  bowed  her  face  on  the  key- 
board with  a  little  discordant  clash. 

And  then  —  out  of  the  stillness  on  the  porch  — 
Tie  came.  I  knew  it  was  he  so  soon  as  his  shadow 
shut  out  the  moon.  I  knew  without  looking,  and  I 
could  not  sing,  but  my  fingers  moved  on,  continuing 
the  melody. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          183 

Claire  lay  motionless,  not  knowing  he  was 
there. 

Silently  he  crossed  the  room,  and  stood  a  moment 
beside  me.  Then  his  hand  closed  over  mine.  .  .  . 

Dear  God  —  Dear  God !  It  was  then  I  knew.  It 
was  then  I  knew  the  meaning  of  the  fire  through  all 
my  heart !  The  music  stopped  with  a  crash.  Claire 
looked  up.  With  a  little  catch  of  her  breath  she 
turned  and  went  swiftly  from  the  room. 

"  Sing  them  again  —  the  words !  "  he  whispered, 
still  gripping  my  hand.  I  shook  my  head.  I  could 
not  find  my  voice. 

"  Then  let  me  say  them  to  you  —  in  my  own 
tongue,"  he  said. 

"  Thou,  my  beloved, 

Art  come  to  me! 

I  yield  my  love  to  thee! 

I  yield  my  life  to  thee! 

Enter   thou  into  my   soul!" 

I  trembled,  hearing  him  speak  the  words  I  had 
sung,  unknowing.  I  rose  to  steady  myself.  Still 
he  gripped  my  hand. 

"  Zoe !  "  he  breathed.  "  You  meant  them !  You 
meant  the  words?  " 

Still  I  could  not  speak.  To  save  my  life,  I  could 
not  speak! 

On  the  porch  sounded  the  sliding  of  chairs.  The 
others  were  coming  in. 

He  spoke  quickly. 


184          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  To-morrow.  At  nine  o'clock.  By  the  North 
Gate.  Will  you  be  there?  " 

I  nodded,  withdrawing  my  hand.  Quickly  I 
slipped  out  and  flew  to  my  room. 

Claire  was  not  there. 

Later 

If  only  he  had  given  me  some  other  thread  to  hold 
by,  than  that  silly  one  of  Tubby!  How  fragile  a 
tie  it  was  —  like  nothing ! 

I  met  him  at  the  North  Gate.  There  is  a  stile 
beside  it,  and  in  the  field  beyond  the  men  were  plant- 
ing Kaffir  corn.  J  rode  up  on  black  Shadow,  but  I 
felt  like  sunshine.  ...  As  if  for  the  first  time  I  was 
really  alive. 

Yet  I  had  left  Claire  sewing  by  the  window,  the 
traces  of  tears  and  sleeplessness  in  her  eyes. 

There  was  room  in  my  mind  for  only  one  thought 
of  Claire,  and  that  was,  "  Does  he  love  her  still  — 
or  is  it  possible  —  ?  "  Had  he  not  laid  his  hand 
over  mine  —  with  her  beside  me? 

He  was  waiting  there.  He  helped  me  from  my 
horse  and  stood  a  moment  still  holding  both  my  hands 
and  looking  down  into  my  eyes. 

"  My  wood  witch !  "  he  said  softly.  "  My  wife ! 
Was  it  you  who  put  the  flowers  there  ?  " 

And  then  it  seemed  as  if  he  meant  to  kiss  me, 
but  I  drew  back,  striving  at  my  hands.  It  was  not 
because  the  men  were  so  close,  planting  the  com. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          185 

Indeed,  I  scarcely  saw  the  men.  It  was  because  I 
could  not  have  borne  it.  The  tide  that  surged  in 
my  heart  would  have  drowned  me. 

His  face  shadowed. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  — "  he  said. 

"  Here  —  here  is  your  watch,"  I  interrupted,  pro- 
ducing it. 

He  took  it  absently. 

"  Come ! "  he  said,  and  pointed  to  the  trees  that 
grew  about  the  canyon's  edge.  There  was  only  one 
lonely  planter  near  the  spot.  I  mounted  my  horse 
and  he  walked  beside  me,  leading  his  own. 

Among  the  trees,  he  spread  his  coat  on  the  grass 
and  helped  me  down.  As  I  touched  the  earth  it 
seemed  as  if  his  supporting  arms  would  have  enfolded 
me,  and  again  I  drew  quickly  away.  All  about  me 
I  felt  the  moving  of  strange  waves.  A  step  further 
and  the  tide  must  have  submerged  me,  a  tide  that 
seems  part  of  eternity. 

"  I  am  wondering,"  he  said,  "  if  I,  also,  may  re- 
turn something."  And  he  drew  from  his  vest  a  little 
velvet  box  —  my  wedding  ring. 

"  First,"  I  whispered.  For  I  must  know  more  of 
him  and  Claire.  Merely  because  he  had  laid  his 
hand  over  mine  must  I  forget  that  it  was  to  her  I  had 
bidden  him  return? 

"  Nothing  first !  "  he  cried.  "  That  garden  was 
first,  Zoe  —  that  little  Eden !  And  I  am  going  back 
to  it  with  you.  Come !  " 


186          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

Who  coul  T  resist  that?  Bravely,  I  moved  closer 
to  him.  Lo/ughing  with  wet  eyes,  I  looked  up  into 
his  face  and  my  lips  formed  the  old,  foolish,  unfor- 
gotten  name,  "  Tubby !  " 

"  Girl!  "  he  cried.     And  his  arms  opened  to  me. 

But  I  had  stopped.  I  had  stopped,  appalled.  I 
drew  back  from  his  arms  and  stood,  listening.  Be- 
yond the  trees  the  solitary  planter  was  singing.  Not 
singing,  indeed,  but  chanting,  gruffly  and  a  little 
flat. 

"Old  Monza,  Queen  of  Samarcand!" 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

I  fled  from  him  and,  parting  the  branches,  looked 
out.  I  could  not  believe  my  eyes.  It  was  Theodore 
who  was  singing  —  the  Razors'  gardener,  Rebecca's 
cousin,  the  father  of  Violet  and  Sweet  William,  and 
all  the  rest! 

Dudley  was  at  my  side. 

"What  it  it?"  he  cried. 

"For  they  were  spanked  with  spik-ed  hand," 

sang  Theodore. 

"And   fed   on  bollyhole!" 

I  was  thinking,  wondering,  piecing  stray  facts 
together.  At  last  I  believed.  Theodore's  ready 
smile  —  so  easily  familiar  now !  —  The  round  face  of 
Sweet  William,  which  was  a  replica  of  Tubby's  own, 
had  I  but  seen ! 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          187 

"  I'll  tell  him  to  stop,"  said  Dudley,  locating  the 
source  of  my  distress.  "  What's  the  matter  with  the 
man?" 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  you !  "  I  cried.  "  It  wasn't  you 
after  all.  You  didn't  sing  that  song  the  other  night 
—  in  Acme !  " 

"  What  song?  That  song?  I  think  it's  a  horri- 
ble thing,  if  you  want  to  know." 

"  You  are  horrible !  "  I  broke  forth,  trembling  with 
the  reaction.  "Who  is  this  man?  Where  did  he 
come  from  ?  " 

"  Teddy  ?  I  sent  him  to  the  Razors  myself. 
He's  all  right.  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Zoe  ?  " 

"  Where'd  you  get  him  ?  " 

"  He  was  the  son  of  our  cook.  Wanted  a  taste 
of  ranch  life,  so  when  I  came  away  from  a  visit  back 
home,  I  brought  him  West.  He  settled  on  the 
Razors'  ranch  after  a  time.  That's  how  I  came  to 
know  the  Razors.  He  married  a — " 

"  Oh,  I  know  that.  I  know  he's  married.  How 
awful !  How  absurd !  " 

"  Well,  Zoe !  Confound  the  whole  —  What  the 
fellow  means  by  shouting  out  songs  while  he's  plant- 
ing corn  — " 

"  How  old  is  he  ?  "  I  asked1.  I  had  quieted  a  little, 
and  was  doing  some  figuring  for  the  first  time. 

"  Ted  ?     He's  likely  twenty-three,  or  thereabout." 

"  How  old  are  you?  " 

"  My  dear  child,  I'm  so  old  that  — " 


188          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  "  I  repeated  sternly. 

"  I'm  thirty-two,"  he  penitently  informed  me. 

"  Well,  don't  you  see?  Can't  you  figure  at  all?  " 
I  cried  exasperated. 

"  My  statistics,"  he  answered,  "  may  not  compare 
favorably  with  Teddy's,  but  there  are  some  matters 
in  which  I  have  a  slight  advantage,  you  must  admit. 
For  one  thing,  I  am  married  to  you,  while  he  is  the 
epouse  of  the  nester's  daughter." 

"  But  you  see !     He  is  Tubby !  " 

"  What?  "  cried  Dudley.     "  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  We'll  see,"  I  replied.  And,  pushing  through  the 
shrubs,  I  led  the  way  across  the  plowed  furrows. 

"  The  present   King  of  Samarcand  — " 

"  Here  a  minute,  Ted ! "  called  Dudley. 

The  man  turned  about,  checking  his  song.  Smil- 
ing, his  hand  went  to  his  broad  hat  and  he  drew 
in  his  mules.  Why  had  I  not  seen?  It  was  the 
beard  he  wore.  It  was  the  awful,  stubby  beard. 

" Planter  working  all  right?"  asked  Dudley. 

w  Fine,  sir." 

"  Ted,  do  you  know  this  young  lady  ?  " 

"  Why,  sure,  sir.  It's  her  we  used  to  call  *  Dim- 
ples.' I  knew  her  fust  time  I  see  her." 

"  M-m-m-m !  Dimples !  "  mused  Dudley.  "  And 
what  did  she  call  you  ?  " 

"  Me,  sir?  She  couldn't  talk  any  too  plain  then. 
She'll  excuse  my  repeatin*  it,  sir.  She  called  me 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 


189 


*  Tubby.'  "  He  laughed  apologetically,  glancing  at 
me. 

"  Yes,  and  a  tub  you  were,"  remarked  Dudley. 
"  Well,  cut  along.  And  remember  the  south  pas- 
ture, close  to  the  fence." 

"  Yes,  sir."     Theodore  clucked,  shaking  his  reins. 

We  walked  back  to  our  horses. 

"  Zoe,"  said  Dudley,  before  I  mounted,  "  was  it  on 
these  grounds  alone  you  wired  me  to  come?  Was 
it  for  this  —  only  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said,  not  meeting  his  eyes. 

"  You  bade  me  come,  because  you  wanted  me, 
did  you  not,  Zoe  ?  "  He  leaned  very  close.  I  felt 
his  eyes.  It  seemed  as  if  they  would  compel  my  own 
to  meet  them. 

"  No  —  not  that,"  I  answered. 

"  Give  me  the  truth,"  he  whispered. 

But  I  could  not  mention  Claire,  just  then. 

"  I  wired  you  —  because  —  I  felt  it  was  my  duty." 

"  Duty  be  —  hanged !  "  he  answered.  Then,  grip- 
)ing  my  hand,  he  forced  me  to  face  him.  "  I  know 
>etter  than  that,  Zoe.  Have  I  forgotten  the  song 
TOU  sang  to  welcome  me?  Did  I  not  know  the  mean- 
ig  of  those  words?  " 

I  laughed,  softly,  brokenly,  from  sheer  excite- 
icnt. 

"  Then  you  knew  more  than  I.  They  were  Greek 
to  me." 

He  looked  at  me.     Slowly  he  let  fall  my  hand. 


190          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

I  turned  quickly  and  mounted  before  he  had  time 
to  help  me.  He  pierced  the  ring  in  his  vest.  Silently 
we  rode  back  to  the  house. 

To-day  I  have  not  seen  him  at  all.  Neither  him 
nor  Claire. 

Night 
He  came  in  this  afternoon.    He  and  Mr.  Razor  had 

a  hurried  talk  apart.     Someone  said  it  resulted  in 

a  telegram  to  Mrs.   Razor.     Something  is  wrong. 

Claire  scarcely  speaks  to  me. 

I  rode  out  alone  to-day.     He  stood  on  the  porch 

with  Mr.  Razor.     He  helped  me  to  mount  but  did  not 

follow  me. 

May  9th 

This  business  of  Tubby  is  like  two  children 
wrangling  over  a  rag  doll. 

What  do  I  care  whether  he  is  Tubby  or  not  ? 
He  is  my  husband. 

Later 

'Andy  has  brought  me  this  note  from  him. 
"  Zoe !     Let  us  speak  the  truth  to  each  other,  re- 
gardless of  its  hurt.     Come  to-night.     Let  us  say  at 
eight  o'clock,  by  the  stile." 

The  truth!  Somehow  I  feel  the  truth  from  him 
will  not  hurt  me.  When  I  think  of  his  voice  this 
morning  —  his  eyes  as  they  forced  mine  to  meet  them 
—  somehow  I  know  —  and  he  shall  have  the  truth 
from  me  —  all  the  truth. 


XVII 

MidnigJitt 

I  went. 

Sometimes  I  think  we  are  built  on  iron  frames,  we 
women.  All  on  the  outside,  nerves  and  tender  flesh, 
with  underneath,  iron.  And  we  bleed  and  quiver  with 
all  the  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune  — 
we  wince  until  the  iron  is  reached,  and  then,  though 
we  still  shrink,  the  danger  of  death  is  past.  Some- 
times we,  even,  cease  to  suffer  pain.  I  know  the 
truth,  and  I  live. 

The  stile  is  on  the  road  to  the  village,  eight  miles 
away.  The  moon,  as  I  rode,  was  half-blown  and 
white  as  a  rose.  Such  a  little  pale  bride-moon,  with 
stars  caught  in  her  veil,  like  pearls. 

I  took  the  cross-cut  through  the  pasture,  and  I 
think  I  was  a  little  early  on  that  account.  I  came 
quickly,  riding  from  the  trees  where  we  had  stood  the 
other  time,  instead  of  from  the  road. 

Two  people  were  at  the  stile,  a  woman  and  a  man. 
The  moon  fell  like  gold  on  the  woman's  lifted  head, 
and  I  saw  that  it  was  Claire.  Her  horse  was  beside 
her,  her  hat  fallen  on  the  ground.  The  man  was 
Dudley,  and  he  was  holding  both  her  hands,  as  he  had 

held  mine. 

191 


192          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  Let  me  go !  "  she  was  saying.  "  I  shall  wait  no 
longer ! " 

"  But  you  promised !  "  he  replied. 

She  tore  her  hands  away.  "  I  am  through !  "  she 
cried  brokenly.  "  My  life  is  my  own !  " 

I  would  not  have  listened,  had  I  been  able  to  stir. 
At  last  the  nerves  of  motion  awoke  in  me,  and  I 
turned,  retracing  my  steps,  unseen,  I  think,  and  un- 
heard by  them. 

Among  the  trees,  hurrying  over  the  road  I  had  just 
taken,  I  met  Bill  Keith,  the  guide.  He  looked  at  me 
keenly,  his  dark  eyes  gleaming  in  the  moonlight.  I 
passed  in  silence. 

He  is  spying  on  someone.  Is  it  Dudley?  Is  it 
Claire?  What  does  it  matter?  What  does  any- 
thing matter  now?  It  is  one  o'clock,  and  Claire  has 
not  yet  come  in. 

I  remember  a  pear  tree  in  the  convent  yard.  It 
had  been  covered  with  a  white  promise  of  blossom, 
but  when  fall  came  it  bore  but  a  single  pear.  Yet 
such  a  glorious  pear,  oval  and  perfect  and  of  a  pre- 
cious gold.  I  looked  at  it  long,  but  I  did  not  essay 
to  climb  the  wall  and  touch  it.  It  was  not  my  pear. 

Yet  once  Sister  Anastasia  said  to  me,  "  You  have 
been  a  good  girl.  Is  there  anything  you  would  like 
as  a  reward  ?  "  I  think  she  thought  I  would  ask  for 
an  extra  holiday,  or  to  be  excused  from  my  arithme- 
tic. But  I  said,  "  I  should  like  the  pear."  And  I 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          193 

pointed  to  the  tree  rustling  greenly  at  the  edge  of  the 
orchard. 

"  It  is  yours,  my  dear,"  said  Sister  Anastasia. 
And,  leading  me  by  the  hand,  she  helped  me  herself 
to  climb  the  wall.  But  the  pear  was  gone.  Yet  the 
bliss  of  thinking  it  was  mine,  as  we  walked  together 
down  the  path !  I  have  often  thought  of  that. 

'May  10th 

I  feel  all  about  me,  outside  the  little  whirlpool  of 
my  own  affairs,  the  disturbed  movement  of  some  cur- 
rent I  cannot  see. 

Mrs.  Razor  comes  to-day.  I  somehow  feel  a  com- 
fort in  the  thought.  I  am  a  failure  as  a  chaperon 
...  a  secretary  ...  a  companion  .  .  .  whatever 
it  is  I  am  supposed  to  be. 

I  sometimes  forget  I  am  anything. 

Ah,  if  I  might  forget  all  ...    ! 

Claire  has  been  gone  all  night. 

Later 

A  note  from  him  by  Andy. 

"  I  waited  until  almost  midnight.     Are  you  ill?  " 

To  which  I  answered : 

"  It  was  not  needful  that  you  tell  me  the  truth.  I 
guessed  it  long  ago.  Please  go  away,  and  let  us  do 
as  we  planned.  Why  strive  to  patch  a  garment 
worthless  from  the  beginning?  " 

Then,  like  the  niente  I  am,  I  wondered  if  he  would 


194          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

answer  me.  I  sat  by  the  window,  watching  the  road 
from  El  Leona  until  almost  noon.  Promptly  enough 
came  Andy  again,  drooping  a  little  on  his  tired  horse. 

"Why  indeed?     Good-by." 

That  was  his  answer. 

I  might  have  dispensed  with  it. 

Later 

Chaos  and  worse ! 

Claire  is  married  —  and  to  Bill  Keith ! 

They  ran  away  last  night,  from  the  very  stile 
where  Dudley  waited  for  me. 

Mrs.  Razor  arrived  at  noon.  Finding  that  Claire 
had  been  gone  all  night,  she  straightway  took  on  the 
behavior  of  a  frantic  hen.  She  would  not  give  up, 
positively  no!  They  must  be  followed.  Telegrams 
must  be  sent  to  various  points  ordering  their  arrest. 
If  she  was  frantic,  there  was  some  cool  streak  in  her 
brain  that  directed  operations.  The  current  I  have 
felt  about  me  has  been  in  wild  agitation  all  after- 
noon. And  my  own  little  whirlpool  merged  into  it, 
for  I  felt  in  a  way  responsible  for  Claire. 

If  it  hadn't  been  for  this  same  whirlpool  —  and 
what  business  has  a  secretary  with  an  independent 
whirlpool  ?  —  I  might  have  been  watching  Claire  and 
doing  something  toward  averting  such  a  catastro- 
phe. Yet,  when  I  look  back,  I  somehow  feel  that  no 
one  on  earth  could  have  managed  Claire. 

Anyway,  the  furies  seemed  loosed  at  El  Leona, 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          195 

with  Mrs.  Razor  guiding  and  abetting  them,  looking 
herself  like  a  plump  fury,  with  her  dusty  traveling 
suit  that  she  had  not  taken  time  to  change,  her  voice 
strident,  her  eyes  aflame.  It  occurred  to  me  that 
Dudley  might  be  able  to  give  them  some  information 
relative  to  the  runaways,  but  he  did  not  appear. 

Not  a  trace  of  them  was  found  until  toward  even- 
ing. Then  came  a  telegram  from  the  border,  signed 
"  C.  and  B."  and  waving  us  their  married  farewell ! 

I  shall  never  forget  the  thud  with  which  Mrs. 
Razor  sat  down  in  the  nearest  chair,  nor  the  sudden 
volley  of  rage  with  which  she  turned  on  her  spouse, 
shaking  the  telegram  in  his  face. 

"  You  are  to  blame ! "  she  shrieked  at  the  close  of 
the  diatribe.  "  You  —  you !  " 

I  melted  into  my  room.  Was  not  I  the  lawful  ob- 
ject of  her  wrath? 

"  I  knew  it ! "  whispered  Andy  who  had  followed 
me. 

He  closed  my  door  softly  and  sat  down  on  Claire's 
deserted  bed.  I  noticed  that  he  held  a  second  tele- 
gram, a  sealed  one.  "  I  knew  Claire'd  do  it !  "  he 
repeated. 

"  I  never  dreamed  it ! "  I  said.  "  I  thought  she 
cared  for — " 

"Holt?"  he  suggested.  "Not  on  your  life!  I 
got  a  telegram  here  for  Mr.  Holt.  He's  leavin* 
again  in  the  mornin'." 

"  And  Claire  didn't  —  Andy,  are  you  sure  ?  " 


196          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  Surest  thing  you  know.  She  let  Mom  think  she 
liked  Mr.  Holt.  Believe  me,  she  fooled  'em  all,  Pop 
'long  with  the  rest.  Pop  didn't  mind  her  likin'  Keith. 
He  can  bust  any  broncho  that  ever  kicked,  but  he's 
skeered  of  Mom.  Mom  fired  Keith  on  account  of 
Claire  'fore  we  left,  but  things  got  to  goin'  to  the 
dogs  round  here  and  Pop  got  him  back  without  her 
knowin'  it.  He's  the  whole  thing  on  this  ranch,  and 
I'll  bet  you  anything  you  say,  that  Mr.  Holt  turns 
it  over  to  him,  too.  Holt's  nobody's  fool,  believe  me. 
Mom  thought  Keith  was  in  Oregon,  that's  how  she 
let  Claire  come  here  this  time.  Claire  knew  where  he 
was.  I  used  to  mail  her  letters,  and  get  'em  for  her 
too  out  of  the  postoffice.  He  used  to  address  'em  to 
me.  Can  you  beat  it?  Keith's  all  right.  I  like 
him.  They  ain't  a  thing  against  him  'cept  he  ain't 
rich  and  stuck  up,  like  some  of  them  guys  in  Acme. 

"  Mom  wanted  Claire  to  be  a  swell  dame  with  a 
front  lawn  and  a  electric  coopay,  and  Claire  wants  a 
prairie  and  a  wwwtang.  Claire  wanted  Keith  —  and 
she's  got  him.  And  I'm  darned  glad.  So's  Pop. 
Only  it's  right  hard  for  him  now.  Just  listen !  " 

"  But  if  Mr.  Holt  was  interested,  he  must  feel 
pretty  beaten  this  morning,"  I  prodded. 

"  He'll  get  over  it,"  encouraged  Andy.  "  I  think 
he  knew  it.  When  he  came  down  to  that  cotillion 
thing  he  took  Claire  a  pile  of  messages  from  Bill. 
Maybe  she  wasn't  walking  on  air  for  days !  I  saw 
it.  Mom  could  have  seen  it  if  she  looked.  Why, 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          197 

hasn't  Claire  been  meetin'  him  every  day  nearly,  and 
a-sneakin'  out  to  him  at  night.  Naw,  sir.  If  Holt 
ever  had  any  hope  of  beatin'  Bill's  time,  I  think  he 
give  up  'fore  he  left  here  the  last  time." 

So  that  was  why  he  came  back  to  me  —  and  not  to 
her !  Not  pity  for  his  mother's  breaking  years,  nor 
for  me.  Merely  shattered  hopes  of  winning  the  girl 
he  loved. 

Thank  heaven,  I  didn't  let  him  pick  me  up  like 
that! 

Later 

Yet  after  all,  was  it  not  the  part  of  wisdom  to  take 
what  was  left?  May  there  not  be  after  all  one  coin 
that  can  buy  love,  namely  —  Love  itself?  I  would 
not  marry,  God  knows,  hoping  to  win  a  man.  But, 
since  I  am  his  wife,  have  I  not  the  right  to  try? 

May  I  not  find  in  the  crumbs  that  she  has  left  suf- 
ficient to  keep  my  soul  alive? 

Later 

But  I  shall  not  see  him  again.     He  leaves  at  dawn. 

I  may  not  even  send  a  note  by  Andy  for  the  boy 
is  too  tired  from  chasing  Claire  to  take  the  telegram 
that  came  to  Dudley.  He  says  he  will  forward  it. 
It  lies  on  the  living-room  table. 

Perhaps  it  is  Claire's  farewell. 

Mrs.  Razor  is  prostrated.  Mr.  Razor  has  ordered 
her  put  to  bed.  They  have  sent  for  Dr.  Honeywell. 


198          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

Later 

I  went  in  the  living-room  and  looked  at  the  yellow 
envelope.  Perhaps  it  is  not  from  Claire.  Perhaps 
his  mother  is  ill.  Perhaps  she  is  coming  to  him  here, 
and  asks  him  to  stay.  Who  knows  what  it  may 
hold?  Ah,  if  I  had  the  courage  —  if  I  had  the  cour- 
age to  take  it  to  him! 

Midnight 

I  have  not  been  asleep. 

Mr.  Graves  and  Meraud  Burns  are  engaged. 
They  told  us  to-night.  Far  out  in  California  Re- 
becca is  beside  the  sea  with  love.  Claire  and  her 
guide  wander,  star-blind,  amid  the  Rockies.  Oh, 
God,  have  pity  on  all  who  stand  outside  the  door  of 
love! 

In  the  dug-out  beyond  El  Leona,  he  is  making 
ready  to  go.  Perhaps,  even  now,  he  is  saddling  Chlo- 
rippe  for  an  early  start.  In  the  gray  light  he  will 
reach  the  little  station  and  be  borne  forth  into  the 
dawn.  Then  will  come  the  long  year  and  his  free- 
dom. 

Will  freedom  be  of  much  worth  to  him  now?  Or 
will  it  be  but  ashes  in  his  hands,  as  it  is  in  mine?  .  .  . 

Good-by,  my  husband!     Good-by,  my  heart! 

God  keep  you  and  bless  you !     Good-by ! 


XVIII 

'May 

Ah,  Jeremiah !  I  have  stumbled  on  you  as  I  pack 
my  trunk!  Indeed,  I  had  forgotten  you,  quite — • 
which  is  extraordinary,  considering  how  intimate 
we've  been  the  last  three  months !  Three  months  ago 
this  day  was  I  married,  Jeremiah,  and  to-day  — 

I  have  read  again  my  last  entry  and  I  recall  how 
last  night  —  though  it  seems  aeons  ago,  and  I  feel 
that  by  now  I  ought  to  be  a  mummy  in  a  winding 
sheet !  —  I  recall  how  last  night  I  sat  here  with  the 
brim-full  moon  outside,  and  wrote  all  slant-wise  by  its 
light.  And  here  is  a  splash  on  the  page,  and  here  a 
streak,  and  there  a  most  horrible  blot!  J  never 
could  cry  tidily. 

And  I  thought  of  all  the  lovers  in  antiquity,  and 
all  the  present-day  lovers  and  all  the  lovers  who 
hadn't  yet  been  born,  and  I  felt  as  if  the  concentrated 
essence  of  all  their  sufferings  had  been  injected  into 
me! 

I  thought  of  how  poor  Claire  had  sat  by  this  same 
window  in  isolated  pain.  I  recalled  how  finally  she 
had  risen  and  flung  on  her  clothes  and  gone  out  into 

the  night.     With  the  memory  I  laid  my  face  down 

199 


200          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

hard  on  you.  Jeremiah,  and  gripped  the  sill  with  both 
my  hands. 

There  came  to  me  then  the  certain  knowledge  that 
Claire  had,  indeed,  never  loved  him.  That  she  had 
perhaps  toyed  with  his  heart  in  her  game  of  subter- 
fuge, deceiving  him  along  with  the  rest  of  her  little 
world.  How  lonely,  then,  must  be  the  world  to  him 
this  night !  How  bitter  the  memory  of  her  promises  ! 
J  forgot  the  dual  game  he  had,  himself,  been  play- 
ing .  .  .  forgot  how,  even  at  the  last,  waiting  at  the 
stile  for  me,  he  had  tried  to  hold  her  to  her  vows  with 
him.  I  forgot,  indeed,  all  things  but  the  desire  to  go 
to  him,  to  comfort  him,  to  heal  his  sorrow  which  must 
be  as  breaking  as  my  own.  But  I  would  not.  I 
gripped  the  sill  until  I  bruised  my  palms.  My  place 
was  not  in  the  dust  at  his  feet.  I  could  not  take  the 
crumbs. 

Long  I  knelt  there,  and,  when  at  last  I  rose,  a 
great  peace  had  come  to  me. 

There  is  fever  in  victory.  Triumph  does  not  al- 
ways mean  repose.  But  the  defeated  win  strange 
calm.  I  did  not  struggle  now.  Conquered  entire, 
of  that  impulse  outside  and  beyond  me,  like  a  plant 
unfolding,  like  a  star  whirled  through  its  orbit,  I 
obeyed.  As  calm  as  one  who  treads  a  precipice  in 
sleep,  I  stole  from  the  room. 

On  the  living-room  table  lay  still  the  message 
bearing  his  name.  I  thrust  it  into  my  belt. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          201 

The  world  outside  was  warm  as  if  with  the  moon- 
glow.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  wind.  No  stir  of 
even  a  bird-wing,  no  sound. 

At  the  stables  I  saddled  black  Shadow,  and,  mount- 
ing, sped  softly  across  the  turf  to  the  open  road. 
The  moon  was  high  now  and  white  with  a  dazzling 
whiteness.  The  prairies  shimmered  in  its  light  like 
a  great  pool.  I  touched  the  frail  spur  to  Shadow's 
flank  and  we  flew  like  fire.  Mile  after  shining 
mile  fled  back  of  us,  and  at  last  the  dug-out  came  in 
sight,  dark  —  dark, —  and  I  knew  that  he  was  gone. 
A  moment,  blank  and  sick,  and  I  moved  forward 
slowly.  Then  suddenly  the  door  opened,  letting  out 
a  pale  light  and  showing  Chlorippe  saddled  and  wait- 
ing just  outside. 

I  drew  quick  rein  and  there  came  over  me  with  the 
suddenness  of  a  flood,  the  realization  of  what  I  had 
done,  the  strangeness  of  my  being  there.  It  was  as 
if  the  force  that  had  so  powerfully  impelled  me  had 
relaxed  its  hold.  Instantly  I  would  have  turned  and 
retraced  my  steps,  had  I  not  remembered  the  tele- 
gram in  my  belt  and  what  its  tidings  might  mean  to 
him. 

So,  quietly  —  oh,  as  quietly  as  the  light  feet  of 
Shadow  could  tread,  I  rode  a  bit  further,  meaning  to 
throw  the  message  through  the  open  door  and  flee 
away.  Shadow  nickered  a  greeting  to  Chlorippe, 
and  I  halted,  fearful.  Inside  there  was  such  utter 


202 

stillness  that  I  took  heart  again.  Softly  I  slipped 
from  the  saddle  and,  stealing  through  the  sleeping 
flowers,  I  gained  the  step. 

There  came  the  sound  of  a  trunk-hasp  snapping. 
And  then,  before  I  could  fling  the  message  or  even 
catch  my  breath,  he  rose  in  the  dim  room  and  came 
to  the  open  door.  Tall  and  silent  he  stood,  while  I 
tried  to  speak  and  could  not.  Then,  "  Zoe ! "  he 
said,  in  a  voice  so  low  it  might  have  been  the  wind 
among  the  hills. 

I  clung  to  the  lintel  for  the  moonlight  was  swim- 
ming about  me,  and  I  felt  at  my  feet  the  warm  edge  of 
that  tide  of  which  my  soul  was  afraid. 

"  Zoe !  "  he  whispered.     "  You  came !  " 

"  To  bring  —  to  bring  you  this,"  I  answered,  and 
I  held  out  the  message. 

He  flung  it  aside.  He  laughed.  He  swept  me 
into  his  arms.  I  could  draw  away  no  more  than  the 
sands  can  draw  back  when  the  tide  comes  up.  And 
with  his  kiss,  I  went  down  into  the  deep. 

At  last  he  held  me  from  him,  and  in  the  pale  glow 
I  met  his  eyes. 

"Thou,  my  beloved,"   he  breathed, 
"Art  come  to  me!'* 


And  I  answered,  looking  into  his  eyes, 

"  I  yield  my  love  to  thee ! 
I  yield  my  life  to  thee ! " 

but  I  could  not  say  the  rest,  and  he  finished  it  for  me, 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          203 

"  Enter  thou  into  my  soul ! " 

And  again  he  drew  me  into  his  arms,  though  it 
seemed  to  me  I  could  bear  no  more. 

"  You  know  now  what  the  words  mean,  Zoe ! "  he 
whispered. 

He  drew  me  from  the  door  to  a  chair  and  sat  down 
beside  me.  "  They  come  from  your  heart,  now,  the 
little  words  ?  "  It  was  all  so  new,  so  wonderful,  sit- 
ting with  him  thus  by  the  light  of  the  sooty  lamp,  with 
the  moon  singing  outside,  the  beautiful,  mended  moon ! 

At  last  I  said,  "  They  came  from  my  heart  before, 
though  I  did  not  know  what  they  meant.  Dudley,  I 
will  tell  you  the  truth.  I  love  you.  I  don't  know 
how  long  it  has  been,  but  I  know  it  is  for  always." 

And  with  that  he  knelt  down  by  my  chair  and  laid 
his  face  in  my  hands  and  my  palms  received  his 
kiss. 

And  I  whispered,  "  Now  tell  the  truth  to  me.  I 
can  bear  it.  For  you  love  me  —  a  little  —  I  think." 

He  looked  up.     I  shall  never  forget  his  face. 

"  A  little?  "  he  whispered.     "  Oh,  my  God !  " 

And  he  hurt  my  hands  with  his. 

"  Dudley,"  I  answered,  loving  the  pain,  "  since 
when? " 

"  Since  always !  Since  I  saw  you  first  at  your 
aunt's  party  in  your  little  white  dress.  And  before 
that  —  ages  before  that.  I  died  loving  you,  in  the 
time  of  Rameses,  and  woke  up  that  night,  and  began 
right  where  I  had  left  off." 


£04          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"But,  Dudley!  Wasn't  it  true,  then,  what  the 
women  said  the  night  I  married?  " 

"  About  La  Belle  Grecque  ?  No.  But  you 
wouldn't  let  me  explain." 

"  La  Belle  Grecque  ?  Who  on  earth  was  that  ?  " 
(I  was  positive  it  was  a  corset!) 

"  A  chorus  girl,  my  child,  who  wanted  to  advertise. 
Wasn't  that  what  you  heard  ?  " 

"  No.  But  tell  me  —  tell  me  about  her  at  once !  " 
So  quickly  do  we  women  slap  the  reins  when  they 
are  laid  in  our  hands! 

"  Why,  gladly,  my  little  shrew !  She  was  a  bit 
of  a  girl  when  I  knew  her  first  .  .  .  away  out  in 
a  little  Colorado  mining  town.  I  bought  her 
father's  claim  for  a  pittance,  and  when  it  made 
me  richer,  I  felt  I  owed  them  something  more.  So 
when  the  girl  came  to  New  York  I  got  her  a  position 
with  a  manager  I  knew,  helped  her  in  other  ways, 
till  she  got  her  start  — "  he  stopped. 

"  And  she  wanted  to  advertise  ?  " 

"  She  sued  me  for  breach  of  promise." 

"  But  —  she  got  no  judgment,  or  whatever  you 
call  it?  " 

"  I  compromised.  Easily  I  could  have  won  the 
case,  but  the  notoriety  of  it  —  I  was  engaged  to  you, 
Zoe,  at  the  time,  and  as  it  was,  it  got  into  all  the 
papers.  I  was  not  surprised  when  you  — " 

"  I  seem  to  remember,"  I  said  vaguely,  "  Aunt  Em- 
meline's  hiding  the  paper  for  a  while."  A  light 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          205 

dawned  on  me.  "  Did  this  girl  —  did  she  go  off  to 
Asia  Minor  then?  " 

He  smiled.     "  To  the  Riviera." 

"  Mrs.  Razor  got  her  mixed  with  me ! "  I  cried. 
"  I  don't  care  about  La  Belle  Grecque.  I  don't  think 
I  should  have  been  jealous  even  then.  Only — "  I 
cupped  his  face  on  my  hands  and  looked  into  his 
eyes,  "  did  Aunt  Emmeline  ask  you  your  inten- 
tions? " 

"  Why  — "  he  frowned,  as  if  trying  to  remember. 
"  I  somehow  believe  —  Yes,  she  did,  now  I  think  of 
it.  I  recall  it  because  I  was  so  downright  relieved 
when  she  did.  I  hadn't  thought  I  stood  a  ghost 
of  a  show  with  Carter  and  all  those  chaps  in  the 
ring."  He  laughed,  pulling  down  my  hands.  Then 
his  face  sobered.  "  Was  that  it?  "  he  cried.  "  For 
God's  sake!  " 

"Wasn't  that  enough?" 

Dudley  looked  utterly  confounded. 

"  Enough?  It  was  an  act  of  charity,  a  blessing 
out  of  high  heaven !  Glorious,  angelic  Aunt  Emme- 
line !  If  ever  she  wants  a  —  But  I  felt  afterward 
she  had  compelled  you  to  it,  and  I  couldn't  forgive 
her  for  deceiving  me  in  that  regard." 

"  Did  she  tell  you  I  —  loved  you,  Dudley  ?  " 

"  She  didn't  exactly  — "  He  mopped  his  face. 
"  Two  solid  nights  I  stayed  awake  with  the  wonder 
of  it  —  the  joy!  It  was  that  knowledge  alone  that 
kept  me  up  when  I  thought  my  poor  sham  wild  oats 


206          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

had  sprung  up  in  a  hedge  between  us.  But  you 
bowled  me  over  as  soon  as  I  saw  you,  with  your 
prompt  withdrawal  of  my  mighty  staff !  " 

"  I  couldn't  bear  —  I  couldn't  bear  she  should  have 
worked  on  your  sympathy  in  such  a  way.  I  didn't 
know  you  loved  me.  How  could  I  ?  " 

"  If  she'd  left  us  alone  five  minutes  — "  he  began. 

"  Never  mind  Aunt  Emmeline,"  I  said.  "  What 
about  Claire?  " 

He  drew  his  brows  together. 

"Claire?" 

"  Dudley !  "  I  cried.  "  You  didn't  love  Claire  — 
before  you  told  Aunt  Emmeline  your  intentions,  and 
a  little  bit  after  you  came  back  here?  " 

"Love  her?  Love  Claire?"  Then  as  if  that 
might  have  sounded  a  bit  ungallant,  he  added, 
"  Claire's  a  fine  girl,  but  she  belonged  to  Bill.  Be- 
sides, they  knew  I  was  married.  They  didn't  get  a 
card  —  I  forgot  'em  —  but  they  saw  a  notice  in  a 
western  paper,  and  sent  me  a  gold  shaving  set." 

"  My  dear  Dudley,  they  thought  you  married  La 
Belle  Grecque  and  got  a  divorce.  Mrs.  Razor  told 
me  herself  that  you  loved  Claire." 

"  Stars  and  Gunboats !  I'm  getting  muddled," 
said  Dudley.  "  Claire  may  have  believed  the  canard 
about  La  Belle  Grecque,  but  she  told  me  all  her  woes 
with  regard  to  Bill.  She  promised  if  I'd  help  her, 
she'd  take  my  advice  and  not  marry  without  her 
mother's  consent.  She  never  could  win  this,  though 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          207 

she  honestly  tried.  I  don't  know  what  kind  of  game 
she  finally  began  to  play  but  I  do  know  that  I  lost 
all  influence  over  her  when  I  wrote  her  a  preachy  let- 
ter from  back  home.  I  didn't  want  her  getting  you 
into  trouble  while  I  was  gone." 

"  She's  married,  Dudley."  I  watched  his  face. 
"  Did  you  know?  " 

"Know?  I  am  afraid,  Mrs.  Doubting  Thomas, 
that  I  was  accessory  to  the  crime,  having  discovered 
their  plans  the  very  night  of  the  elopement.  I  was 
waiting  at  the  stile  for  you  —  you  scamp,  not  to 
show  up !  —  when  Claire  came  breathlessly  up,  say- 
ing, *  Have  you  got  the  license,  Billy  ?  '  When  I 
tried  to  reason  with  her,  she  called  me  fearful  names, 
such  as  '  piker,'  and  *  interfering  thing.'  So  I  finally 
let  them  go.  I'd  probably  have  argued  longer  —  for 
Mrs.  Razor  was  coming  and  we  might  have  won  her 
consent  —  but  I  wanted  to  see  you.  Why  didn't  you 
come?  " 

"  I  was  —  Oh,  we're  telling  each  other  the  truth ! 
I  saw  you  with  Claire !  I  have  thought  all  along  — " 
I  covered  my  face. 

"  My  little  girl !  "  he  said,  drawing  down  my  hands. 
"  You  wanted  the  divorce  for  me  ?  " 

I  nodded. 

"  But  I  promised  to  tell  you  if  ever  I  found  any- 
one —  as  if  such  a  thing  could  be !  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  too  kind." 

"  And  I  thought  —     Well,  I  thought  first  it  was 


208         THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

this  red-headed  young  doctor  whom  Willard  saw  drive 
you  home  once.  Then  I  thought  it  was  that  Ver- 
vaine  chap  —  the  old  bachelor  —  who  used  to  walk 
with  you  and  the  kiddies  in  the  park.  Then,  down 
here*  I  didn't  know  but  you  had  switched  off  to  one 
of  the  fellows  at  the  dance.  And,  after  a  time,  I 
was  positive  it  was  Jordan." 

"  Was  Willard  the  man  in  the  gray  coat  who  used 
to—" 

"  Yes.  He  was  there  to  take  care  of  you,  but  of 
course  he  saw !  And  you  didn't  care  for  Jordan  — 
not  at  all?  " 

"  No,  no !  I  know  what  you  mean,  but  I  kept  him 
on  at  the  Falls  that  day,  because  I  was  afraid  if  I 
were  left  alone  with  you,  I  would —  You  would 
guess  — " 

"  Oh,  my  dear ! "  he  cried.  *'  What  cross-pur- 
poses we've  been  at!  And  you  were  left  with  me  a 
whole  night,  yet  you  didn't  betray —  If  only  you 
had!" 

"  If  only  you  had !  " 

"But  didn't  I?  Didn't  you  say  that  night  that 
you  felt  sorry  for  me?  Didn't  you  tell  me  in  your 
last  note  that  you'd  known  the  truth  all  along?  Oh, 
little  one,  if  you  knew  what  it  had  been  to  hold  it 
back!  Yet  what  could  I  gain  by  telling  you  except 
compassion,  or  allegiance,  perhaps,  from  a  sense  of 
duty?  I  hate  that  word  duty  —  never  say  it  to  me ! 
I  could  not  force  you  as  I  believed  your  aunt  had 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          209 

forced  you.  I  felt  you  hated  me,  first  because  of  this 
forced  union,  and  again  because  of  what  you  had 
heard  and  believed.  I  thought  if  I  might,  somehow, 
win  you,  even  from  a  long  way  off,  by  proving  my 
own  love,  my  loyalty,  asking  nothing  in  return  — 
nothing  —  that  some  day,  you  might  come  to  me  of 
your  own  will !  " 

"  And  I  have !  "  I  whispered. 

"  But  you  waited  well,  my  little  Lady  Lucifer ! 
And  what  you  endured  like  an  obstinate  little  Spar- 
tan !  And  what  you  made  me  endure !  The  fear  and 
hatred  I  felt  when  you  encountered  other  men !  The 
freedom  you  seemed  so  anxious  for,  and  the  scorn 
with  which  you  rejected  my  lawful  donations! 
You've  been  remarkably  naughty  for  a  straw  wife, 
Zoe!  And  then  the  awful  catastrophe  of  Tubby  — 
for  I  really  believed  I  was  Tubby!  I  didn't  realize 
the  incongruity  of  playing  frog-houses  at  eighteen. 
I  honestly  didn't." 

"  I  saw  you  once,"  I  said.  "  You  came  down  our 
walk  with  your  mother.  I  thought  you  were  her  hus- 
band. You  both  kissed  me." 

"What?"  he  cried.  "I  kissed  you,  Zoe,  and  — 
forgot  it?  "  and  he  repeated  the  exploit  to  refresh 
his  memory. 

Then  he  whispered,  "  You  are  going  back  with  me." 

I  nodded. 

"  To-day,"  he  added. 

I  nodded  again,  and  then  he  said,  "  Do  you  know 


210          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

what  I  have  done  ?  It  was  before  I  found  out  I  wasn't 
Tubby.  It  was  as  soon  as  your  telegram  came  say- 
ing, *  Come.'  I  have  bought  the  Little  House.  Its 
roses  and  its  little  gate,  its  big  brick  wall,  and  its 
sea-sounds,  they  are  ours  —  ours !  .  .  .  Why,  my 
child!" 

For  my  head  had  bowed  on  his  shoulder  and  I  was 
drowning  him  in  the  happiest  tears  I  had  ever  shed 
in  all  my  life.  "  I  can't  believe  it !  "  I  whispered. 

"  Look  up !  "  he  commanded.  "  Open  this  tele- 
gram you  brought  me  and  see  if  it  doesn't  say  the 
Little  House  is  ours." 

It  did!  It  did!  And  to  think  I  had  borne  it  all 
the  way,  not  knowing! 

"  They're  fixing  it  up  now,  Zoe,  making  it  into  a 
bower  as  sweet  as  it  used  to  be.  The  roses  are  in 
their  first  glory,  and  my  mother  is  waiting  by  the 
little  flowered  gate  to  welcome  you.  We'll  go  back 
for  a  little  while,  shan't  we?  And  then  to  Hono- 
lulu if  you  like  —  or  Heaven,  Zoe.  Anywhere  you 
say." 

"  This  —  just  this  is  Heaven  —  here  in  the  dug- 
out," I  answered.  Then  I  rose  quickly,  still  prisoned 
in  his  arms.  "  But  if  we  are  starting  to-day,  I  must 
gather  up  my  things,"  I  said.  "  Some  are  in  Acme. 
They  can  be  sent  — " 

"  We've  missed  the  early  train,"  said  Dudley,  "  but 
there's  another  to-night."  He  lifted  the  little  lamp. 
"  Do  you  know  what's  in  that  trunk?  "  he  asked. 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

I  looked  and  recognized  it,  wondering  at  its  pres- 
ence there. 

"  It's  your  trunk,"  said  Dudley.  "  Your  aunt 
sent  it  to  my  rooms,  along  with  our  presents,  and 
some  rare  old  books  that  she  said  her  husband  had 
left  to  you.  She  always  believed  I'd  get  you  and 
keep  you  in  spite  of  yourself.  In  fact,  she  wrote  me 
that  such  was  my  full  duty,  and  she  hinted  that  I 
could  more  easily  accomplish  it  if  I  would  refrain 
from  —  safe-guarding  you  in  the  matter  of  funds. 
Think  of  winning  you  in  that  way,  my  girl!  But 
several  times  I  thought  I  must  take  her  advice  with 
regard  to  seizing  and  keeping  you  by  brute  force !  It 
was  after  Willard  had  reported  certain  things  — 
such  as  little  worn-out  shoes  — " 

"  I'd  plenty  of  shoes,  really,  but  they  were  all  too 
fine!" 

"  Well, —  and  strange  plump  gentlemen  accosting 
you  on  the  street,  following  you  frenziedly  — " 

"  Only  one,  Dudley !  " 

He  set  the  lamp  down,  and  took  me  in  his  arms. 
He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  about  the  trunk. 

"  The  night  I  saw  you,"  he  said,  "  for  the  first 
time  down  here, —  that  night  at  the  Razors'  cotillion, 
I  had  just  had  a  letter  from  Willard.  You  had  es- 
caped his  vigilance  and  left  town  —  left  at  night. 
You  had  always  stayed  in  the  house  at  night,  you 
know !  He  was  tracing  you.  He  had  reason  to  be- 
lieve you  had  left  on  the  same  train  as  the  young 


212 

physician!  Think  of  it,  Zoe!  The  desire  to  seize 
you  that  night  almost  mastered  me  —  so  glad  I  was 
to  behold  you  safe  and  sound !  " 

"  Yet  you  looked  so  calm,"  I  said. 

"  Calm  ?  I  was  inwardly  a  ravening  wolf  —  for 
joy,  and  never  so  amazed  in  all  my  life.  Mrs.  Mor- 
ris had  casually  remarked,  '  What  a  beautiful  girl ! ' 
and  I  turned  — " 

"  Was  Mrs.  Morris  the  lady  in  the  twinkling  pink 
dress  ?  " 

"  Pink,  was  it  ?  I  don't  know.  Anyhow,  I  turned 
—  and  there  stood  my  own  little  straw  — " 

"  Don't  call  me  a  straw  wife  any  more,  Dudley ! 
Don't!" 

"Never  more!  The  straw  was  just  packing. 
We've  pushed  it  all  away,  and  here  she  is  —  my  little 
wife  —  safe  and  sound,  though  she's  traveled  so  long 
and  so  far  and  had  so  many  bumps." 

"  But  you  were  surprised,  Dudley  ?  " 

"  To  see  you  that  night?  My  heart  did  a  plunge 
almost  to  death !  And  you  looked  so  lovely,  with  the 
little  rosy  stars  in  your  hair,  and  your  golden  butter- 
flies, and  your  dear  white  arms,  so  round  and  —  and 
yielding,  Zoe.  They  seemed  to  yield  so  when  you 
danced  with  the  other  chaps." 

"  One  must  yield  when  one  dances,  Dudley !  " 

"  And  then  you  danced  with  me !  I  seized  you  at 
last  and  kept  you  for  the  space  of  eleven  minutes, 
perhaps !  I  wonder  if  you  knew  what  that  meant  ?  " 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

"  I  think  I  did,"  I  said. 

"  And  that  night  by  the  canyon  when  I  took  down 
your  hair !  Oh,  my  girl  —  my  girl !  " 

He  turned  abruptly  to  the  trunk  and  raised  the  lid. 
There  by  the  pale  light  —  for  the  lamp  had  flickered 
out  and  the  dawn  was  reddening  —  I  saw  the  ivory 
gloss  of  my  wedding  gown.  Folded  as  a  man  folds 
things,  it  was,  but  sending  forth  a  perfume  and  a 
glimmer  of  light. 

"  Every  night,"  he  said,  drawing  me  again  within 
his  arms.  Then  he  stopped,  his  face  shadowing. 
"  But  even  you,"  he  said,  "  might  laugh  at  that !  " 

"  No,  no !  "  I  cried  brokenly,  "  tell  me !  " 

"  Every  night  that  I  was  alone,  I  have  unfolded  it 
—  the  dress  in  which  you  looked  so  lovely,  Zoe,  the 
dress  in  which  I  thought  you  mine,  and  lived  the  hap- 
piest hour  I  had  ever  known  until  this  night.  Every 
night  I  have  lifted  it  and  hung  it  beside  the  wall, 
dreaming  that  you  came  to  me  again  in  the  glimmer 
of  candles  and  the  mist  of  your  white  veil.  I  have 
felt  even  the  tremor  of  your  hand  on  my  arm  and 
the  wonder  and  thrill  of  your  nearness  as  we  stood 
together  that  once,  alone,  before  God." 

"  Don't !  "  I  whispered.     "  Don't !  " 

For  I  knew  now  how  much  more  that  marriage  had 
meant  to  him  than  to  me,  and  how  unworthy  I  was  to 
enter  into  its  holiness  until  now. 

"  My  ring ! "  I  whispered.  "  Give  me  back  my 
ring!" 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

He  lifted  my  hand.  I  felt  the  gold  circlet  slip 
upon  my  finger.  Slowly  he  drew  me  into  his  arms. 

And  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  organs  in  the  world 
broke  into  our  epithalamium,  and  all  the  choirs  of 
heaven  seemed  to  sing!  And  the  white  sun  rose  up 
beyond  El  Leona  and  flooded  the  world  with  light. 

It  was  our  bridal  day. 

"Listen,  Dudley!  Listen!"  I  said.  For  the 
sound  of  chugging  and  purring  came  distinctly  from 
the  road.  In  another  minute  an  automobile  hove  into 
sight,  and  Mr.  Razor  and  Mrs.  Razor  and  Meraud 
Burns  and  Mr.  Graves  and  Rufus  Honeywell  and 
Andy  began  tumbling  out  before  it  had  reached  the 
door. 

We  stood  there,  hand  in  hand,  to  welcome  them. 
And  we  might  have  been  a  pair  of  three-horned  buf- 
faloes, to  judge  by  their  faces. 

Finding  my  bed  untouched,  just  as  they  had  found 
Claire's  the  morning  before,  wonder  and  dismay  had 
seized  the  household.  No  doubt  my  grief  over  the 
flight  of  Claire  had  unhinged  my  reason,  and  I  had 
mounted  —  for  they  missed  Shadow  —  and  was  wan- 
dering the  prairies,  perhaps  to  my  death!  Mrs. 
Razor,  aroused  to  new  frenzy,  was  for  dispatching 
detachments  of  riders  in  various  directions,  but  Rufus 
had  quieted  her  to  ask  the  whereabouts  of  Dudley. 

"  Gone,"  said  Andy. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  Rufus  had  answered.  "  Her 
trunk's  here." 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          215 

"  Her?     What  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Razor. 

"  Nothing  at  all.  But  before  tearing  up  the  men, 
suppose  we  ride  over  to  Mr.  Holt's  quarters.  He 
might  be  able  to  help  us."  So,  mystified,  and  rather 
doubtful  and  very  panicky,  they  had  followed  this 
suggestion  —  and  there,  first  thing,  were  Shadow  and 
Chlorippe,  rubbing  noses,  outside  the  dug-out!  All 
this  we  learned  afterward.  At  the  time,  our  visitors 
merely  tumbled  out  of  the  auto,  and  regarded  us  with- 
out a  word.  At  last  Mrs.  Razor,  very  red  and  pant- 
ing, came  forward  and  voiced  the  general  emotion. 

"  Mrs.  Ballentyne,  what  does  this  mean  ?  " 

"  My  wife,"  introduced  Dudley,  still  holding  my 
hand,  and  smiling  at  the  assembly  quite  pleasantly. 

Mrs.  Razor  sat  down  flat  on  a  rose-bush. 

Mr.  Razor  shuffled  up  after  a  moment  and  shook 
both  our  hands.  Meraud  and  Mr.  Graves  met  each 
other's  eyes.  Only  Andy  spoke. 

"  Got  anything  to  eat?  "  he  asked.  "  We  haven't 
had  breakfast." 

"  You're  on ! "  laughed  Dudley,  clapping  him  on 
the  back.  "  Come  in,  everybody !  " 

So  they  all  surged  in,  looking  curiously  about  the 
dug-out,  as  if  it  had  suddenly  attained  some  mysteri- 
ous interest,  and  sitting  down  on  trunks  and  bed. 
Rufus  assisted  Mrs.  Razor  to  the  only  chair  —  we 
learned  afterwards  that  he  had  been  prodding  her 
with  hypodermics  all  night  —  and  went  out  again. 
He  said  he  preferred  his  breakfast  in  the  automobile. 


216          THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE 

Then  I  bounced  around  and  made  coffee  and  fried 
some  bacon  and  eggs.  Dudley  insisted  on  helping 
until  I  drove  him  out  with  a  stern  gesture  of  the  lit- 
tle granite  pot.  Then  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bunk 
and  related  briefly  and  quite  clearly  the  whole  story. 
He  even  dug  up  our  marriage  certificate  and  showed 
them  the  wedding  gown.  But  he  didn't  tell  them  how 
he'd  hung  it  up  every  night!  And  Mrs.  Razor,  sit- 
ting limply  on  the  only  chair,  said  she  never  would 
have  supposed,  to  look  at  me,  that  I  was  a  female 
chorus  girl.  Then  Dudley  set  her  right  on  that, — : 
a  little  more  sternly,  I  thought,  than  her  depressed 
state  warranted  —  and  she  mopped  her  brow  with 
her  green  motor  veil  and  said  she'd  had  about  all  she 
could  stand,  and  Mr.  Razor  was  responsible.  Then 
I  brought  her  some  coffee,  and  Dudley  and  Mr. 
Graves  set  the  table,  and  everybody  began  to  chatter 
and  eat. 

"  Our  wedding  breakfast,"  I  whispered  to  Dudley. 

"  Nectar  and  ambrosia ! "  he  whispered  back,  and 
lifted  the  bacon  aloft.  He  waved  a  toasting  fork 
about  the  dug-out. 

"  I  wonder  if  they  know  this  is  Mount  Olympus  ?  " 
he  said. 

Perhaps  they  didn't,  but  laughing  as  they  ate,  and 
pelting  us  with  banter  —  except  Mrs.  Razor,  who  ab- 
stractedly drank  her  coffee  —  they  seemed  to  have 
quite  accustomed  themselves  to  the  situation. 

Solemnly  they  toasted  us,  lifting  their  cups,  and 


THE  LITTLE  STRAW  WIFE          217 

Mr.  Graves  made  a  speech  in  which  he  spoke  feelingly 
and  commingllj  of  brides  and  wine  and  roses,  gazing 
all  the  time  across  the  oilcloth-covered  table  into 
Meraud's  soft  gray  eyes. 

Then  Dudley  responded,  standing  on  a  soap-box, 
and  I  don't  know  a  word  of  what  he  said,  for  he 
looked  so  wonderful  with  the  sun  filtering  through 
the  little  window  and  falling  on  his  hair,  that  I 
couldn't  listen.  I  only  know  that  they  all  cheered 
and  waved  their  cups,  and  Mrs.  Razor  said,  "  Let's 
go  home." 

Which  they  did,  joining  Rufus  in  the  automobile, 
and  leaving  us  to  follow  on  our  horses. 

And  all  this  day,  while  I  am  supposed  to  be  pack- 
ing—  though,  really,  there  was  very  little  here  to 
pack,  and  Meraud  attended  to  that  —  all  this  day 
Mr.  Razor  has  been  talking  with  Dudley,  trying  to 
buy  back  the  ranch  for  Keith  and  Claire.  As  soon  as 
I  found  it  out,  I  bade  Dudley  let  them  have  it.  It 
is  their  Eden.  How  should  we  shut  them  out? 

And  now  I  have  turned  a  page  —  the  last  page  — 
of  My  Honeymoon  Journal.  Yet  the  real  Journal  is 
only  this  day  begun. 

This  day  we  go  forth  to  find  that  Eden  of  our  own. 
'And  we  shall  enter  by  the  Gate.  For  we  have  the 
Key. 

THE    END 


A     000110218     5 


